


In Need of a Wife - Behind Closed Doors

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, LGBTQ Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the more mature missing scenes and backstory for characters in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/578018/chapters/1036990">In Need of a Wife</a>, centrally focusing on the history and relationships of Bellamy Goldacre, Rab Graham, Rose Dormer, and Mingxu Fei.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ladies of Canton

**Author's Note:**

> As if having Inward, the Inward remix, At Home with the Rutherglens, smutty Rutherglen scenes, and In Need of a Wife, Mingxu and Rose wanted to have some say of their own.

Rose was shaking, but she was unsure if it was more anger or fear.

She was feeling a fair measure of both, but they were so tangled that she could not be certain.

There was blood on her skin, where a blade had slid across fabric and flesh, and her sleeve was torn to ribbons. That was when Mingxu had broken the first man’s nose. The other two men went down in a flurry of blows, and Rose herself dealt with the last, snatching up a clay pot from a nearby stall and bringing it down hard on her assailant’s head.

Four men against two women who were barely more than the size of girls.

Three men against Mingxu alone, and she had left them whimpering and bleeding.

Mingxu spun about, making sure there were no more, then caught Rose by the arm, dragging her into a sheltered alcove out of the rain. They were both soaked to the skin, and by the light of a nearby lantern, Mingxu bent over her wounded arm.

“You are hurt,” she said.

“Only a scratch,” Rose demurred. She touched a vicious bruise that was blossoming on Mingxu’s cheek. Her hand was still shaking, she noticed, but they were both alive. “Thank you.”

Mingxu looked up at her, and there was such heat in her eyes that Rose trembled. “I could not let you be taken,” she whispered, pressing close as if the secret could only be granted in such a close embrace. “I could not.”

Rose’s fingers curled in Mingxu’s wet black hair. She had been so afraid, when Mingxu had fallen. She had feared losing her protection. She had feared losing the closeness they shared when they curled upon the same sleeping mat. She feared losing her.

Their faces were so close that she could feel Mingxu’s breath warming her rain-damped skin, and even her heartbeat through their torn and filthy clothing. Mingxu brought her hand to Rose’s cheek, trembling as much as Rose’s had. 

Rose’s heart was pounding a savage beat against her ribs, and her breath was caught. She remembered speaking in whispers with her sister Constance, in the days after her sister’s marriage, of the feeling one had when one looked into the eyes of someone who loved them. 

“You will know,” was all Constance had said, all cryptic and secret as those new to the marriage bed were wont to be.

Rose knew.

Lord above, it could not be so, but it was.

Their lips were so close.

It was bordering on indecent.

“We…” Mingxu said unsteadily. “We must return to the house. To shelter. Your arm must be tended to.”

Rose nodded, letting her bodyguard guide her back into the street. Her waxed umbrella was torn beyond repair, so she drew up her shawl and covered her head, as they hurried back in the direction of her father’s house. 

It was only by good fortune that none noticed them return, just as none had paid heed to them when they had departed. It was always the way when a new ship docked. Father would be occupied with seeing cargo dealt with, while mother would be arranging something akin to a civilised meal for the crew.

There was a bolt on her bedroom door, as well as the steel latches on the shutters. 

Neither of them spoke as they locked themselves securely up in her quarters.

There was something unsaid, something secret, something borne of the terror of a threat to their lives and the wonder of survival. 

“Come,” Mingxu said, kneeling beside the low bed with the pitcher of water and the washbowl by her knee. The factory had not yet been provided with Western accoutrements, but Rose did not mind making do with beds in the Chinese fashion. They were plainer, simpler, and no less comfortable. 

Rose sat, and drew off her shawl.

A shiver ran through her as Mingxu took her wounded arm.

The injury was not severe, barely a scratch, but there was blood and that was enough to raise questions. 

With gentle hands, Mingxu tore away the scraps of Rose’s sleeve, baring her arm. Strands of silk were caught in the gash, and she bowed her dark head, drawing each one free, then used one of Rose’s own handkerchiefs, dipped in the cool water, to clean the wound.

Rose was startled to realise she was trembling again.

“You are cold,” Mingxu murmured, setting aside the cloth. “You must put on warm, dry clothing. You parents would not be happy if you became ill.”

Rose nodded. “Yes,” she said, rising. The fabric of her skirts felt heavy, and her underskirts were damp, clinging to her legs. She hesitated, then offered her hand to Mingxu. “Will you help me?”

It was not a task the bodyguard was well-suited to. European dress vexed her, and she tended to leave it to the maids.

Her rough-fingered hand slipped into Rose’s.

“Yes,” she said. 

Rose looked at their linked hands, then to Mingxu’s face. It was not so unreadable now as it had been at first. Mingxu wore a mask of quiet secrecy. So few knew her, but now, Rose could see all the hope and caution and even fear.

Wordlessly, she led Mingxu to the dressing screen, behind which her trousseau lay. She drew her damp, heavy hair over her shoulder, and offered Mingxu her back. “You will have to unlace me,” she said in a whisper.

She heard Mingxu take a quiet breath, then the pressure of the stays being drawn tighter, to allow the knots to be undone. Rose braced her hands upon sturdy wood of the dressing screen, and breathed freely when the heavy, wet fabric came loose. 

Mingxu’s hands slipped beneath the shoulders of her gown, and Rose bit on her lip as the Chinese woman’s fingers brushed down her arms, drawing a rash of gooseflesh in their wake as they dragged the fabric down.

Rose lowered her arms, and Mingxu continued to drag the dress down until it crumpled about Rose’s feet and their fingers met instead. Her palms upon the back of Rose’s hands, Mingxu threaded her fingers between Rose’s.

“Would you have me stop?” she asked, and Rose only half-understood what she was being asked. Oh, she understood the meaning, but not the… the practicalities. The very thought made her colour rise, but she knew she did not fear what she felt, and that she did not fear it meant that she should not forbid it, not now.

She curled her fingers about Mingxu’s. “No.”

She felt the breath upon her shoulder, then the brush of lips, so cautious, so light, a butterfly might have alighted on her skin.

Mingxu drew one of her hands free, and her fingers caught upon the laces of the corset, deftly loosening it. Rose caught her free hand upon the dressing screen, as the laces were tugged loose, drawing a shuddering breath when it opened about her. 

It joined the dress upon the floor, and the petticoats - heavy and damp with mud - followed close upon it.

Clad in naught but her shift and stockings, Rose could feel Mingxu’s hands upon her hips, where they had fallen as the skirts had dropped away. They were not cold, but nor were they warm, and they were so very still, as if Mingxu feared to move them.

Rose’s breaths were coming rapid and unsteady, but her mind was clear.

Mingxu’s hands felt as if they should always rest upon her. That much she knew. She moved her own hands to lay them upon Mingxu’s, and without thought for any consequence, drew the other woman’s arms about her.

Mingxu pressed to her back. Only then could Rose feel that she was breathing as unsteadily as Rose was herself. 

“Your robes,” Rose said quietly, her hand brushing Mingxu’s sleeve. “You are soaked through.”

“It is of no consequence,” Mingxu demurred.

Rose shook her head. “I cannot allow you to become ill,” she said, turning in Mingxu’s loose embrace. She hesitated but a moment, then reached for the ornate buttons at Mingxu’s collar, loosening one, then another, her eyes captured and held by Mingxu’s.

Her other hand loosed the belt at Mingxu’s waist, and the long strip of fabric unravelled, yard upon yard.

Mingxu’s lips had parted, only a fraction, but enough to show her surprise, her shock?

“Would you have me stop?” Rose whispered, her finger and thumb upon the last button.

Mingxu stared at her for a long moment, and all at once, her lips were upon Rose’s, soft, warm and fleeting. She drew back, and once more, her expression was taut with wariness, but also with hope. “No,” she whispered. 

Rose’s tongue darted along her lower lip.

Never in all her years in Canton had she seen Chinese couples exchanging such intimate contact. Such things, she was told, were kept for only the most intimate of relations, much as it was in England.

She could feel the flush in her cheeks and the throb of her blood at the knowledge that Mingxu was not adverse to the intimacy that seemed to be growing between them. Her fingers brushed Mingxu’s again, and she hooked her littlest finger around Mingxu’s.

Mingxu looked down, startled, then back up at her face.

This time, Rose was the one to bring their lips together.

It was not graceful or elegant but each brush of her mouth to Mingxu’s awoke some new fire within her, some delicious, scorching heat. Her hand tangled into Mingxu’s hair, and she gasped in surprise, when Mingxu’s lips parted, and Mingxu’s tongue darted against her lips.

Rose drew back and they stared at one another.

Could it be so between two women? Could two women love as a man and a woman might? Rose did not know. She knew her Scriptures and it was not spoken of. Perhaps if it was not spoken of, it was not a sin?

Mingxu’s hands returned to her hips, both of them, stroking through the fabric of her shift, and all thought of sin or scriptures or damnation went from Rose’s mind. All that she wanted was to have Mingxu touch her again.

She brought their lips together again, and felt wonderfully daring when she parted her own lips to Mingxu’s. It was clear that neither of them had done such things before, for there was mess and laughter, which turned husky as Mingxu’s hands moved upon her.

One palm pressed to Rose’s breast through the thin fabric, and she uttered a small, startled sound. Mingxu flinched, but Rose covered that same hand encouragingly, demanding, pressing it closer, fingers pinching and kneading and drawing small sparks of pleasure that were altogether too delicious. 

Emboldened, Rose parted the folds of Mingxu’s robe with one hand. 

Where she was soft, with curves upon hip and breast, Mingxu was lean and sleek as a wildcat, and just as beautiful. Her breasts were small, and Rose touched one lightly, reverently for fear of causing any pain. Mingxu quivered, and her mouth claimed Rose’s again with a hunger that sent the blood throbbing in places Rose had not much thought upon, save in the secret dark parts of the night.

Dizzied, breathless, Rose pushed Mingxu back.

“The bed,” she whispered. “Please. I am quite dizzy.”

Mingxu’s expression of alarm gave way to a quite pleased smile, and she caught Rose’s hands, drawing her back towards the bed they had often shared, but never, ever like this. Rose sat upon the very edge and Mingxu knelt by her feet, unrolling her stockings. Her dark eyes never left Rose’s face as she unlaced the garters and drew one then the other down.

She did not immediately move, but her hands cupped beneath Rose’s now-bare calves, and Rose put her hand to her mouth to stifle a small cry as slender hands curved up the back of her nude legs, warm and firm. Her shift was pushed up, over her knees, upon her thighs, and she felt herself blushing at Mingxu’s intent.

“I would like to see you,” Mingxu said simply. “No bindings, no frames shaping you. Just you.”

“I am hardly anything particular,” Rose said, blushing.

Mingxu smiled a small, secret smile. “You are,” she said, gathering the ends of the shift in her hand. “Please may I look?”

Rose touched Mingxu’s cheek. “You may,” she whispered.

The shift was pulled easily over her head and cast to one side. It was habit that drew her arms to cover her breasts, her legs to hide her more intimate places, but Mingxu touched her knees lightly, and looked at her with such warmth in her eyes, that she could hide nothing.

Light fingertips skimmed upon her thighs, then brushed up to her ribs, where the marks of her corset remained. A frown furrowed her brow and she leaned forward so quickly that Rose could not discern her intent, until her lips pressed to the creases in Rose’s flesh. Rose bit down hard upon her lip. Her torso was so newly released that the skin positively buzzed with pins and needles, as Mingxu traced each crease, each line, each reddened strip of flesh.

Rose’s hand was still tangled up in Mingxu’s hair, and she did not know if she wished to push her back or pull her closer, her feet skittering on the polished wood of the floor.

“Why do you torture yourself so?” Mingxu asked, looking up at her. “Each day, you bind yourself like this?”

“It is socially expected,” Rose said quietly. “A lady must appear a particular way.”

Mingxu bowed her head again, pressing her lips to the marks. “To each land, they bind their women differently,” she murmured, one hand caressing Rose’s breast, smoothing the ridges there so gently, then to Rose’s breathless astonishment, she put her mouth to the nipple, and suckled as a babe might.

It felt like fire through her veins, and Rose bit upon her own finger to keep from crying out, though her other hand tightened in Mingxu’s hair, pressing her closer with encouragement.

Mingxu’s hand toyed with her other breast gently, teasing as much as her mouth, and her other hand stroked and caressed along Rose’s thigh. It was altogether too much sensation, and Rose fell back against the bed, trembling.

“Enough?” Mingxu whispered. “Or would you have more?”

Rose propped herself upon one arm. “All,” she breathed raggedly, offering her smallest finger. “For you and for I.”

Mingxu’s serious face broke into a dazzling smile, and she curled her smallest finger about Rose’s. “All,” she agreed, and crawled upon the bed to claim Rose’s lips again. Rose let her lead the kiss, for it seemed she knew better what to do, while Rose’s own hands pushed the tangle of robes from Mingxu’s lithe body.

Somehow, they moved closer to the centre of the bed, their arms and legs all tangled about one another. Rose bit her lip, arching her back as Mingxu’s fingers sought out the sensitive, ticklish places below her ribs, across her belly, and…

They both seemed caught, frozen, as Mingxu’s fingertips brushed against the soft nest of curls at the apex of Rose’s thighs. It was one matter to touch in play and sport, but this was intimacy of the most secret kind.

Rose covered Mingxu’s hand with her own and guided it downwards, her eyes holding Mingxu’s as she let Mingxu touch her most secret places. It felt delightful, intoxicating, the way her slim, strong fingers followed Rose’s lead, stroking slowly through damp curls, seeking out that… that small point, the heated knot of throbbing want.

Rose’s breath caught in a small, desperate whimper.

Mingxu kissed her again and again, her fingers delving between the soft folds of Rose’s sex, even as she rubbed and pressed at that tiny delightful knot. Their bodies were pressed so close now that Rose could feel the rapid patter of Mingxu’s heart, beating as fast as her own.

Her eyes flew wide as a finger pressed gently into her, only just, and her thighs closed tight upon the invasion. She looked wildly up at Mingxu, lost, dizzy, breathless, and wanting. Mingxu was braced over her, one arm beside Rose’s head, and she was panting softly.

“It may hurt,” she whispered. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

Rose’s hand had somehow ended up on Mingxu’s back, and she was holding her so close, and if they stopped now, it would all seem a dream, all easy to put upon a shelf and remember with fondness, and she could not and would not do that.

“All,” she whispered, parting her thighs, curious, afraid, but eager to know what Mingxu might offer her. Mingxu’s dark eyes shone with gratitude and affection. She shifted, her body pressing warm to Rose’s, her hip to Rose’s belly, her thighs straddling one of Rose’s, and she kissed her, again, soft, and tender, and drew Rose into it, until she was so lost in soft, warm delight that she barely sobbed at all as Mingxu’s finger slid within her.

It was strange, and invasive, and tight, but Mingxu murmured her name and gently stroked that small point of pleasure. Her feet splayed and slipped against the covers, and she shuddered, pushing her hips towards Mingxu’s hand. She felt the press of Mingxu’s body against her thigh, felt her heat, her wetness too.

“Mingxu,” she groaned.

Mingxu’s breath quivered across her lips, and her hand moved, drawing out with such exquisite slowness that Rose pawed at her back. 

“No,” she pleaded, wanting more of that strange, hot pressure. Mingxu was leaning over her, panting softly, looking down at her, and Rose looked up at her desperately, arching her back, lifting her hips, her thigh brushing between Mingxu’s.

Mingxu’s hand moved suddenly, less gentle, and Rose swallowed a cry as the finger thrust deep again and Mingxhu’s thumb pushed just…

And she stroked again, deeper, harder, and Rose tugged at her back, their mouths clashing clumsily against one another, hot and wet, and with what little thought she had left, she pushed her thigh up, and felt Mingxu shift, her hips twitching, rubbing, seeking pleasure of her own upon Rose’s quivering limb. 

The stroke of her fingers became more erratic, but Rose was so lost in the thousand sensations that she scarce noticed, her hips twitching demandingly, and her body throbbing and pulsing until she thought she might die of it, breathless and shaking until all seemed to erupt in smothering heat and sweep her away.

Mingxu’s lips were clumsy on hers and Mingxu’s hips still moved, even as she drifted back from whatever place her mind had flown to. Blindly, without thought, she reached between their tangled limbs and sought that needy, secret place concealed between Mingxu’s thighs.

Mingxu, rocked back on her knees, pressing her hand to her mouth, but did not pull away, her eyes pressing closed in pleasure as Rose touched her, unsure, but eager, rubbing and teasing, and her fingers were slick and wet when Mingxu quivered as violently as she had only moments earlier.

Rose laid her hand lightly upon Mingxu’s lean thigh. Her fingers glistened in the half-light. 

Mingxu somehow was holding herself upright. The warrior in her, Rose supposed.

“Lie with me?” she offered quietly. 

Mingxu covered Rose’s hand on her thigh. “Is it wise?” she asked softly.

“We lie together all the time,” Rose said with a small, shy smile. “Who is to know that all is changed?”

Mingxu lowered her eyes with a small smile of her own. Without further hesitation, she lay down at Rose’s side, and to Rose’s delight, laid her arm across her belly, as if laying claim to her. She was quiet for several moments, then murmured, “I did not imagine you felt as I.”

Rose lifted her hand and brushed the back of her fingers down Mingxu’s cheek. “You have been my shadow for so long now,” she whispered. “No one can exist without their shadow.”

Mingxu’s eyes grew bright, and she leaned closer to kiss Rose again, tenderly. “You shall not lose your shadow,” she whispered. “I swear.”

“Even on the brightest day?”

Mingxu’s firm legs tangled about Rose’s. “In the brightest day,” she whispered, drawing the covers about them as Rose nestled closer to her, “the shadow is clearest.”

“And in the dark?” Rose asked, as she leaned over to snuff out the lamp.

She felt Mingxu’s smile brush against her lips. “In the dark, no one would even know it was there.” Her breast was squeezed. “Nor what it might be doing.”

Rose wrapped her arms about Mingxu. “Good,” she whispered. “I am fond of my shadow. I would not wish it gone.”

Mingxu kissed her again, softly, in the darkness.


	2. On the Morrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately after "The Ladies of Canton".

Rose was woken by the crow of the rooster.

Her mother always despaired about the small flock of chickens that were kept by one of the servants in the factory compound, but Rose liked to be woken so. It was better than the shouting and cursing of the men transporting the goods from the factories to the docks.

She stirred drowsily, gradually becoming away of the warm weight of Mingxu's head resting upon her chest. Dark hair, heavy and soft as silk, was woven between her fingers, and she could feel Mingxu's legs tangled up between her own.

Rose felt a foolish smile tugging on her lips remembering the secret pleasures and warmth of the previous night. It hardly seemed to matter that if it was known, they would be judged, condemned, even punished. It was their secret, their private affair, and no one would or needed to know of it.

Mingxu seemed still asleep, even when Rose drew the hair back from her cheek, her fingertips skimming along the curve of Mingxu's chin. Mingxu murmured drowsily, nuzzling her cheek to Rose's breast. Perhaps she was dreaming, or perhaps she was simply acting upon instinct, but her tongue darted between her parted lips and caught upon the peak of Rose's breast.

Rose shuddered so suddenly that Mingxu shifted, rolling away from her and onto her back, one arm flung over her head in graceful abandon.

Rose could not help but gaze at her, fascinated.

Though it was not the first time they had seen one another unclothed, it was the first time that she had not felt ashamed to look.

They were as different as two women could be in shape and form.

She had pale eyes, and tawny hair, where Mingxu's eyes and hair were black as mahogany. Mingxu was physically strengthened by combat, both in body and in mind, where Rose knew she was softened by her very role as a well-born English lady. She was not weak, not as some might imagine it, but she certainly could not have subdued their assailants the previous night, not as Mingxu had.

Rose propped her chin in her right hand, watching the way Mingxu’s lips parted softly with every exhaled breath, the way her lashes rested in sooty smudges upon her skin, the softening of her usually stern expression. She was not considered beautiful, not within the view of other English people, who liked everyone to look similar in shape, colour and form, but to Rose, she was exquisite in every way.

Rose uncurled her fingers, brushing them against her own lips, remembering the soft, then more urgent kisses, the passion between them, from a woman that many believed as cold as ice. 

She hesitated, then drew the back of her fingers beneath her nose, catching the faintest of scents that she did not immediately recognise. Colour suffused her face, recalling the previous night, the intimacy with which she had touched Mingxu. Her lover. 

Her breath caught at the thought.

It was true that they could not love as a man and a woman had, but they had done as near as made no difference. Rose felt her blush darken as she dragged her tongue over the tip of her finger, for if she had kissed her, touched her, heard her, marked herself with her scent…

Mingxu had tasted her.

It was only fair to do the same.

She leaned over the other woman, using her left hand to hold her hair back, and brushed a kiss to Mingxu’s parted lips. Mingxu murmured against the kiss, though her eyes remained closed. Rose took a small nervous breath, then slid a little further down the coverlet and brushed a kiss to the delicate column of Mingxu’s bare throat. She felt Mingxu’s heartbeat jump and smiled as she daintily kissed her way down to Mingxu’s collarbone.

Her bodyguard was far too alert to remain asleep, even if she was feigning so.

Rose released her hair, letting it fall loose, and lifted herself, bracing one hand on either side of Mingxu’s body as she kissed gently lower, giving Mingxu all the time in the world to push her away, if she so desired.

Mingxu shivered when Rose’s lips closed over the delicate bud of her breast. So size did not matter, then? For the dainty tip hardened as readily as Rose’s own, and a small, needy sound seemed to catch in Mingxu’s throat. Yet still, she did not move.

Rose considered her for a moment, then nipped gently with her teeth. Mingxu’s body twitched from head to toe, though her eyes did not open, nor did she reach out. Rose smiled quietly. So that was to be the way of it, was it? She would not admit to being awake? Then Rose would simply have to rouse her properly.

She arranged herself upon her right arm and brought up her left hand to tease Mingxu as Mingxu had teased her only hours before. As soft as Rose’s fingers were, her nails were longer, and she matched nips of her teeth with gentle plucking pinches, each soothed in turn by palm and tongue.

Mingxu shivered softly, deliciously, but still she did not open her eyes, though her hands were trembling and twitching into fists, as if she wanted nothing more than to reach out and grasp Rose to her.

Rose lowered her cheek to rest it upon the smooth planes of Mingxu’s belly. She could feel the very muscles quiver with tension. She rubbed her cheek in a slow circle and breathed out a soft, warm sigh against Mingxu’s chest.

How far, she wondered, would Mingxu allow her to venture?

She tilted her head, just a little, and kissed the smooth flesh just above Mingxu’s navel.

Not even a glimpse of dark eyes.

Rose lifted herself to bury her face in Mingxu’s chest against, suckling greedily at each breast in turn until she felt Mingxu squirm, her hips jerking. Her mouth drew upon the hard, taut nipple once more, and she slid her hands downwards.

She felt no surprise at all that Mingxu’s thighs parted at her touch.

Mingxu’s secret places were already warm, wet, and she felt her heartbeat quicken as she drew her fingers across sparse hair and along the silken flesh, more aware now than she had been the night before.

What did it look like, she wondered. What…

She had her hand drawn back and halfway to her lips before she realised the thought.

She felt the blood rush once more to her face, and looked to Mingxu, only to find black eyes fixed on her with a hunger that made her breath catch. 

“Taste,” Mingxu breathed.

Rose’s breath was quivering across her lips as she slid her fingertips into her mouth. That itself drew a small, breathless sound from Mingxu. The sight, the taste, the sound, the scent, the feel of her in the throes of desire was enough to make Rose’s head spin.

She replaced her hand once more between Mingxu’s thighs, watching her face as she slowly started to move her fingers, trying to find the places that she knew so well on her own body. It was similar, but not the same, and she hated to look away from Mingxu, but she had to see, to seek what she wished to touch.

Mingxu flushed as rosy as Rose had herself as Rose put a hand to her thigh and drew her legs wider apart.

“What…” she began.

Rose ducked her head, blushing. “Knowing you,” she whispered, clambering over Mingxu’s thigh to kneel between her legs. It was only once she was there that she realised how very vulnerable she had made Mingxu, with no way to hide herself, save putting her hand between Rose and her sex.

Mingxu had brought her hands down to her sides, pressing them there, as if to stop herself from hiding. But when she looked at Rose, when she arched her back, when she pressed her bare feet to the bedding and shifted her hips forward, Rose felt dazed with such trust.

She placed her left hand upon Mingxu’s thigh, and with trembling fingers, she gently traced the delicate lips of Mingxu’s sex. It was like the petals of a flower, delicate layers, and she felt Mingxu shiver to her toes.

Rose knew it was probably too far, too damnable, too shameless, but she slid her knees off the edge of the low bed and brought herself lower, pressing her cheek to Mingxu’s thigh, and inhaling the scent of her, the scent of desire.

Mingxu sobbed suddenly, softly, and without thought, to calm her, reassure her, Rose pressed her lips to those secret lips.

Mingxu exclaimed, startled, wondering, demanding, too many emotions for such a simple sound.

Rose did not hesitated to kiss her again, using her tongue to tease apart the soft folds of flesh, tasting her. Mingxu’s hand was all at once in her hair, but she was not pulling away. Indeed, she curled her fingers and tugged gently, guiding, and Rose smiled as she traced her tongue upwards. 

They both knew what she sought, and Mingxu whimpered as she found it.

Rose remembered the delicate way Mingxu’s fingers had fluttered upon her the night before, and so she tried to mimic such touches on that delicate throbbing nub of flesh with her tongue, and as she did so, one of the hands braced upon Mingxu’s thighs slipped downwards, seeking out her entrance.

Mingxu’s hips were twitching, tiny shuddering jolts, and Rose could hear her keening. She stroked Mingxu’s thigh softly, as the finger of her other hand eased into the clinging warmth of Mingxu’s body. Mingxu’s fist tensed in her hair, and for a moment, a brief heartbeat of a moment, Rose was afraid she had done wrong, until Mingxu tugged again.

Rose raised her eyes, meeting Mingxu’s. She was propped up on her free arm, staring down at Rose as if she were looking upon the face of one of her Gods, and Rose smiled, and lowered her mouth to kiss her again, using her tongue to stroke her as she pressed her finger deeper. 

Mingxu’s hips seemed to move of their own accord, pressing to Rose’s hand, to her lips, and she was shivering, so softly, so desperately, small, breathless pleas escaping her lips, until she tugged suddenly on Rose’s hair, desperately, dragging her upwards.

Clumsily, Rose all but fell atop her and Mingxu crushed their lips together, her hand covering Roses and guiding her finger deeper still, making her stroke harder, harder, both their hands colliding with her sex with near bruising force, until Mingxu cried out into Rose’s lips.

Rose was startled to realise she was as breathless as Mingxu. She lifted her head to look down at the other woman. “That… that pleased you?”

Mingxu nodded breathlessly. The hand wound about Rose’s started moving both their hands again, together, but more slowly, drawing fresh shudders through Mingxu, as if a fire scarce banked was slowly being rekindled.

“I did not think last night…” she said, her voice ragged, lower than usual.

“Last night is the beginning,” Rose whispered, shivering herself as Mingxu shifted and brought her thigh up, nudging Rose’s shamelessly apart. The sleek warmth of the muscled limb pressed closer to her, and she stared down at Mingxu. 

“The beginning?” Mingxu breathed, her hand sliding from Rose’s hair down her back, to her hip, guiding her to move her body close against Mingxu’s

Rose flushed, wondering how it was possible that even just feeling the gentle pressing rub of Mingxu’s bare limb could set her heart racing as much as the taste of the other woman. “If you wish it,” she breathed, her hand pressing to Mingxu’s shoulder.

Abruptly, Mingxu drew their hands from between her limbs, and sat up, pulling Rose close against her. “I wish it,” she said, and her mouth claimed Rose’s. They fell back among the covers, and Rose’s limbs tangled about Mingxu’s, their mouths devouring one another, their hands all about each other, and together, they seemed to be moving to a rhythm older than nature itself.

The pressure of Mingxu’s thigh upon her sex was gentle, building like a fire stoked little by little, and when Mingxu suddenly slipped from her arms, slid down her body, and laid her attentions there, tongue and teeth, and not one finger but two, Rose had to bite down hard upon her own hand to stifle the sobbing cry that ripped from her throat.

She must have wept.

She did not know if she did, but she must have, for Mingxu crept back up the bed and held up and kissed her cheeks softly.

Rose looked at her, touching her cheek gently. “Did you truly believe it would only be one night?” she asked quietly.

Mingxu lowered her eyes. “We are different, you and I,” she replied. “I did not know your thoughts.”

Rose lifted her chin gently. “My thoughts are as yours,” she said, meeting her eyes. She did not know if one spoke of love, when one loved another woman, but she hoped that Mingxu could understand what was unsaid. “My desires are yours.” She claimed a kiss, her tongue darting daringly against Mingxu’s lips. “I am yours.”

Mingxu trembled, and Rose took her in her arms and held her.


	3. Bathing

Rose Dormer had little in the way of servants in the rooms she shared. The house her father kept was little more than a section of one of the factory outbuildings, adjusted to the purpose of residence, and had few luxuries to speak of.

Once, there had been a grander house where Rose’s elder siblings had also lived and grown up, but as time went on, each of them went on to education or business or marriage, until she was the only one yet to fly the nest. Her parents intended to return to England some time in the very near future, but until then, they had taken up residence in their current abode.

The one lack that her father often lamented was that it meant that they lost their private bathing chamber. Her father was a singular man, who had taken to the Chinese concept of bathing rather too well and insisted that if they were to live among heathens, at least they could show them that an English gentleman could be as clean and fragrant as every last one of the Chinamen. 

It was an indulgence that Rose had grown up with, and now, the plain, small copper tub that they used in their more modest home was scarcely comfortable at all.

Accordingly, once a month, after much exchange of coin and dispute, Mingxu had managed to barter access to one of the bath houses in the city. It was small, discreet, and did little business, which was why an Englishman’s coin was considered welcome. 

Naturally, Rose insisted that Mingxu had best accompany, for there was nothing quite so helpless as a woman robbed of her clothing. Her father agreed, of course, for why would she be without her faithful bodyguard. Indeed, her bodyguard might assist her in bathing, if it was not too much trouble, for the local bath attendants tended towards uncomfortable if asked to assist an Englishman - or woman - with their ablutions.

It was before noon when they reached the bath house. The doors were shuttered, but at the sound of their soft shoes upon the steps, one of the doors slid aside, granting them entrance into the quiet gloom.

The bath house’s owner was an older man, but given the presence of two women, he had made himself scarce, leaving his wife, a thin, elderly woman in charge. It was apparent that she was only allowing them entrance on sufferance of coin.

Rose held herself with quiet decorum, feigning that she did not hear and understand every veiled insult cast at her. It was no secret that the English were unwelcome, but even those who accepted English coin and seemed quite neutral could be spiteful when they believed that their words were not understood. 

Admittedly, the same could be said for her English fellows, who would sneer about the nobles of the Chinese court, in the belief that they went misunderstood.

Finally, they were ushered into the bathing room, and the door was shut behind them a little too hard.

Mingxu glowered at it. “She insults you, but she accepts your money readily enough,” she said angrily.

“I heard,” Rose said, lifting her hands to remove her bonnet.

Mingxu looked at her, stricken. “You understood all…?”

Rose shook her head, smiling briefly. “Not all,” she said. “Enough. And enough to know that father is paying through the nose for the privilege of using this place.” She met her lover’s eyes and smiled slightly. “Oh, do not be so cross. You know my people use yours just as ill as yours use mine.”

“Your father is an honest and respectful man,” Mingxu said stubbornly. “Disrespecting those who disrespect you is one matter, but someone who is courteous should be treated with courtesy.”

“We cannot always have people to behave as we wish,” Rose said, setting her gloves and coat down upon the wooden bench beside her bonnet. She looked at Mingxu with a small, virtuous smile. “Have we paid enough to be undisturbed?”

“More than enough,” Mingxu said with another dark look in the direction of the door.

Rose crossed the stone-flagged floor, and lifted her hands to draw Mingxu’s face to hers, and smiled. “Then shall we not use this time?” she asked, her eyes shining. “There is a bath to be had and I will take pleasure in knowing what we will have done in her precious bath house, when I know she hates me so.”

The flush that coloured Mingxu’s cheeks warmed her palms. “Here?” Mingxu breathed.

Rose caught her lower lip between her teeth and nodded. “If it is quite safe,” she said.

Mingxu’s dark eyes bored into hers, then the Chinese woman whirled away, checking each of the doors and sliding heavy wooden bolts into place. There were a few shuttered windows along the walls as well. Mingxu took up the rags put aside for drying one’s body and covered each window too. 

When she turned back to Rose, there was a predatory brightness in her smile.

“You are bold, my Lady,” she murmured.

Rose met her eyes with a challenging smile. She was drawing the laces of her dress loose, one strand at a time. “I am what you have taught me to be,” she said, though she scarce finished speaking before Mingxu crossed the floor and claimed her lips in a voracious kiss.

Kissing was one of Rose’s most secret pleasures. That two mouths could slip against one another so intimately, tongues darting and meeting in furtive congress, was almost a precursor to the very act of love itself. She moaned softly into Mingxu’s mouth, her hands catching her lover’s waist as Mingxu’s tongue teased along the roof of her mouth.

Mingxu’s lips moved from hers, across her cheek with soft, fleeting kisses, along the curve of her jaw, and settled close to her ear. “We should not waste the bath,” Mingxu breathed, her breath warm on flesh moistened by her lips. It sent a shiver the length of Rose’s spine. “Will you bathe?”

Rose curled her fingers into Mingxu’s robe. “With you.”

She felt more than heard the shallow breath that Mingxu took. 

The laces at the back of her dress were tugged open with an urgency that made her blood throb hotly, and she felt Mingxu’s fingers at the edge of her sleeves, pulling them wide and dragging the dress downwards.

Rose dropped her arms, letting Mingxu disrobe her until she stood in nothing but her fine chemise that did little to hide her. She saw the way Mingxu’s eyes dropped, no doubt to the darkened peaks of her breasts, then lower still.

Mingxu’s eyes returned to her face, and Rose saw the desire there, the way Mingxu’s tongue wet her lower lip. Even now, she was shy, as if her touch would be unwelcome.

Rose reached out, catching the broad sash that bound Mingxu’s robe closed, drawing her closer. “Turn about is fair play,” she murmured, loosening the intricate knot. It took time, time enough for Mingxu’s hands to settle upon Rose’s hips, stroking circles upon her flesh through the light linen of her chemise.

Rose released the sash, watching as it unravelled around Mingxu’s feet in a tangle. The folds of her outer robe parted, revealing a plainer one beneath, and she parted that too with one hand, baring flesh to her touch.

“The bath,” Mingxu whispered, drawing back and folding down to her knees. Rose saw that Mingxu’s hands trembled as she reached for the laces that held Rose’s stockings in place. Her fingers skimmed the point where flesh was uncovered, and Rose had to bite her lip, her toes curling.

It did not go unnoticed.

Mingxu looked up at her, unlacing her stockings blindly, and dragging one down, then the other, the humid air of the bath house wrapping about Rose’s now-bare limbs. Rose lifted each foot in turn and Mingxu cast the stockings aside, replacing their coarse warmth with her own fingers, curving them up Rose’s nude calves. 

“The bath,” Rose echoed, knowing well that if Mingxu kept looking at her with such heat, she would get nowhere near the steaming pool. 

Mingxu rose on her knees, her hands dragging higher still, drawing the hem of her chemise with them. The chemise needed to be removed, Rose thought breathlessly. Of course it did. It made no never mind that Mingxu’s hands were tracing up the back of her thighs. Nor that Mingxu’s eyes were level with her chest and darted to the peaked tip of each breast.

It did, however, make her breath catch utterly, when Mingxu leaned closer and closed her mouth upon Rose’s breast through the fine fabric of her chemise. Her fingers tightened, too, squeezing warmly just beneath the curve of Rose’s buttocks.

Rose’s hands found their way into Mingxu’s hair, her own teeth sinking hard into her lower lip as her lover suckled at her breast greedily. Short, hot spikes of want throbbed through her, made even worse when Mingxu’s lips moved to her other breast, leaving her nipple dampened and neglected, hard against the fabric of her chemise.

“Mingxu,” she protested reluctantly. “The bath.”

Mingxu rose smoothly, releasing her to pull the chemise up and over her head, leaving her bare and wanting. Rose shivered as the air struck her from all sides, and her lover looked at her heatedly. “The bath,” she said.

Rose stared at her, then stepped closer to her with the boldness that always seemed to astonish her lover, pushing first the outer robe, then the inner robe from Mingxu’s slender body. The fabric fell, unheeded, to the floor, and Rose closed the gap between them, claiming a kiss. Her breasts pressed hard to Mingxu’s chest, and she felt Mingxu clutch at her hips.

“They would call me wanton,” she whispered to her lover. “If they knew of the desire you wake in me.”

Colour bloomed in Mingxu’s cheeks. “And I,” she confessed. She was less inclined to speak of her feelings, no doubt fearing rebuff, even after near weeks of furtive liaisons and intimacy.

Rose drew her hands down Mingxu’s arms. “Come,” she said softly. “We should bathe, before we are utterly diverted.”

There was a shallow hollow close to the pool, and a small basin beside it. Rose stepped into the hollow and scooped water from the bath, sluicing it over her body, hissing at the warmth of it. The water drained off through a gutter, and she scooped another basinful, shivering in unexpected pleasure when Mingxu stepped down behind her and slipped her arms about her waist.

“You must wash yourself thorough,” Mingxu breathed, one hand cupping Rose’s breast, slick and wet as it was. The other hand splayed upon her belly, sliding downwards.

“Am I bathing incorrectly?” Rose asked breathlessly. 

“Mm.” Mingxu nuzzled her neck. “Pour the water and I shall wash you as you should be washed.”

Rose laughed, only a little unsteadily. “Am I to trust you?”

Warm fingers slipped between her thighs softly. “That is your choice,” Mingxu murmured.

Rose tipped the basin, pouring a little more water about her, and near groaned aloud when Mingxu’s hand trailed across her belly, in sweeping strokes, as if scrubbing every inch of her. One hand lingered at her breast and her head fell back against Mingxu’s shoulder.

“I feel I should offer this service to you,” she murmured, her hips twitching forward was Mingxu’s hand skimmed down low again, curling between her thighs, just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy.

“We have time,” Mingxu said lightly. Her hand lifted from Rose’s belly to slide down her arm and claim the basin. “Close your eyes, and I will ready you.”

Rose spread her arms by her sides, closing her eyes. She heard the splash of the basin being dipped into the bath, and found herself trembling, awaiting Mingxu’s attention. The silence hung upon the air for an eternity, then a handful of water was scooped over her shoulder, trickling down over both her back and her chest.

She did not intend to, but she gasped, and she heard Mingxu’s soft laughter.

A second handful followed upon the other shoulder, and she heard the light sound of Mingxu’s feet upon the bare stone.

“You must have every part of you clean,” she murmured, a moment before drawing a warm, damped cloth over Rose’s hip. A splash of water was tipped between Rose’s shoulders, running ticklish the length of her spine, making her squirm. 

“Is it not enough to merely rinse?” she asked, knowing full well it was not.

Lips pressed to the bare nape of her neck so unexpectedly that her knees trembled. 

“It is not,” Mingxu breathed against the wet skin of her shoulder. The cloth was drawn from shoulder to tailbone and Rose shivered as Mingxu stepped close enough that her belly was soft against Rose’s own backside. 

The basin was tipped and the flow of water splashed over them both, something she could not help but notice as Mingxu’s breasts rubbed against her back, her pleasure in the closeness more than apparent, earning a small, explosive gasp from Rose.

“I am quite clean,” she whispered, pressing back.

The basin clattered to the floor, and slick, wet hands slid around her body, dragging the cloth, teasing and wandering and Rose squirmed as finally, finally, hot, knowing fingers pressed between her thighs.

“Truly?” Mingxu whispered.

Rose covered Mingxu’s hand, rocking her hips against it slowly. “Quite sure.”

There was silence for a moment, and stillness, then Mingxu’s hands were gone. Rose was spun around and she scarce had time to protest when Mingxu’s lips covered hers. She was pressed back to the wall, the wooden beams warm against her back.

Mingxu broke from the kiss, staring at her, then to Rose’s astonishment, fell to her knees and braced her hands upon Rose’s thighs.

“What are you…?”

The question was answered when Mingxu’s mouth pressed between Rose’s splayed limbs, her hot, hungry little tongue licking at Rose’s secret places. Rose pressed back against the wooden panelling, her eyes wide. In the bedchamber, they had done such things of course, but she had never imagined Mingxu so placed, on her knees, looking up at her with such heat and greedy desire in her eyes. 

“Oh…” The sound was not gasp not whimper, but something between.

Mingxu’s fingers squeezed her thighs and her tongue stroked deep, licking eagerly. One hand joined it, sliding along Rose’s already throbbing sex. So much teasing had sparked a flame that was burning hot, and Rose threw an arm over her mouth, pressing her teeth against her flesh when fingers thrust into her body.

Her feet were pressing hard to the stone of the floor, and she only knew she would not fall because Mingxu would not allow it. Her head fell back against the wall, her other hand plunging down to bury in Mingxu’s hair, and she shuddered with each merciless thrust and twist of Mingxu’s fingers. The woman tilted her hand just so, pressed her mouth, just so, and Rose bit down so hard on her arm that she could taste blood, a keening sound escaping her. 

Mingxu nuzzled at the damp, dark curls at the juncture of her thighs, a shy, pleased smile on her lips.

“Satisfied?” Rose asked hoarsely against her arm. Her legs were trembling and she did not trust herself to move.

Mingxu did not immediately reply, but simply rose and kissed her. “Bath,” she murmured, a brighter light in her eyes and a smile of true pleasure on her lips.

Rose stared at her, then giggled helplessly. “You may need to help me.”

Mingxu flushed, slipping closer and putting her arm about Rose’s waist. “The bath will be beneficial if you are feeling weak.”

Rose slanted a mischievous look at her. “Is that why the Chinese bathe so often, hmm?”

Mingxu’s eyes widened in astonishment, and she burst out laughing. “Only for you,” she confided, helping Rose down the steps into the pool. The water was deliciously hot, and her shivering limbs trembled for other reasons. Mingxu sank to sit on the narrow ledge that ran around the edge of the bath. “Only ever for you.”

Rose lifted a damp hand from beneath the water. “And I you,” she confessed in a whisper.

Mingxu looked surprised, pleased, shocked, a thousand emotions. “Truly?”

Rose simply drew her closer and kissed her again, her own flavour clinging to Mingxu’s flushed lips. “Yes,” she whispered into the kiss.


	4. The First Gift

Rose was bored.

She and her mother had partaken of needlework in the morning, and read before lunch, but by mid-afternoon, the summer’s heat was far too much for her mother. Mrs Dormer made her excuses before retreating to her chamber.

Rose knew that her mother loathed to be seen as immodest, but in the privacy of her chambers, would sit with her feet in a bucket of cool water, wearing nothing but a shift. One of the servants had seen her so once, and approved mightily that a Western woman could see sense in removing the dozens of layers of her heavy gowns.

Leaving her own books, Rose went to her own chambers. 

It was stifling to close the doors, even with the shutters turned to allow a breath of air in, but it was safer than seeing how much more immodest Rose was than her mother. She locked the door as a precaution.

Some people would wear a shift, but Rose was quite happy to shed her clothing entirely and sprawl upon her bed, dabbing herself with cool, rose-scented water. With the light breeze from the shutters, the water on her skin cooled wonderfully, making the cloying, damp heat much more bearable.

She listened to the clatter and yells from the factories as time ticked gently by. They were never silent, even late into the night, but in the middle of the day, with new ships docking and departing so often, there was little peace.

A knock at her door startled her, and she scrambled up, drawing her robe about her for modesty’s sake. 

“Who’s there?”

“It is I.”

Rose’s smile lit her face. Mingxu.

She unbolted the door, letting her lover in without bothering to close her robe or draw the sash. “I did not anticipate your return so soon,” she said happily. “I thought your family celebrations were to keep you some time.”

“I was no longer required,” Mingxu said softly, as she slipped into the room. She was carrying a small box under her arm, and turned to look at Rose. “Lock the door.”

Rose felt the familiar warm rush of pleasure at Mingxu’s order. It had taken weeks and months to persuade her lover to talk to her as an equal, rather than as a mistress, and when Mingxu gave her commands, it made her shiver to her toes. She slid the bolts back into place and turned only to be greeted by a kiss.

Lips brushed lips, slowly, gently, then Mingxu’s tongue teased its way between Rose’s lips, and a slim hand slid beneath Rose’s robe, caressing her back and sliding down to squeeze her backside so firmly that Rose caught her breath.

She drew back. “Is that to be the way of it, Fei Mingxu?” she whispered in feigned shock. “Am I to be so abused?”

Mingxu’s eyes gleamed. “That and more,” she promised, though she drew back. “I have brought you a gift.”

“Oh?”

Mingxu caught her hand and led her back to the bed, sitting down. Rose knelt down on the bed beside her, looking at her in expectation.

The box was laid between them.

There was something coy, almost shy in Mingxu’s expression. “Open it.”

Rose flicked the catch and opened the box. She felt her cheeks flush as she looked at the object lying inside and raised her eyes to Mingxu. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

Mingxu hid a giggle behind her hand. “There was a fertility festival,” she confided. “I thought you might like to have one.”

Rose lifted the carved object out of the box. The phallus. The thought made her blush even more, which was absurd. It was hardly as if they had stolen a man’s manhood away. It was only a piece of wood, though carved and polished until it was smooth to the touch. She traced her fingers along the length of it. It was easily as long as her hand from heel to fingertip.

“We must get a lock for my chest,” she decided. “I would not have my poor mother stumble across such… wicked things.”

Mingxu looked at her innocently. “It is only a piece of wood, my lady,” she murmured. “It has not been used to any… wickedness.”

Rose cast an appraising glance at her. “Then perhaps it should,” she murmured, leaning closer to kiss Mingxu’s lips. She felt Mingxu’s smile against her own. “Unless you are wearied by your journey?”

She was abruptly tumbled back with a squeal on the bed, as Mingxu claimed a kiss, then another. 

“I could never be so weary,” she whispered, one hand caressing Rose beneath her robe.

Rose laughed in delight. “Your garments,” she said. “It is far too hot to be so attired.”

Mingxu scrambled up, loosing her belt and shedding her tunic with remarkable alacrity. Rose propped herself up on her elbows, her gift cradled snugly in her hand. Would Mingxu take pleasure, she wondered, if she used it upon her? Or would it be more satisfying to allow Mingxu to take the lead?

The thought fled from her mind as Mingxu knelt and crawled across the bed to her, her body covering Rose’s warm and pungent from her long journey. Their limbs interlaced so readily, and their kisses were interspersed with soft, contented sounds as their bodies pressed and rubbed slowly against one another.

“I should bathe you,” Rose whispered. “My beautiful Mingxu.”

“And then, we shall discovered the pleasures of your new gift?”

Rose’s eyes danced. “We shall see,” she whispered. She rolled to the side of the bed, motioning Mingxu to sit close to the edge, and she settled herself on her knees on the mat on the floor, reaching for the bowl of rosewater.

“Did you await me?” Mingxu teased, planting her feet immodestly on the floor on either side of Rose’s hips. It took all of Rose’s good intentions not to let her eyes drift to the apex of her lover’s thighs. 

“I always await you,” she murmured, drawing the cloth through the water, then wringing it out. “But on this occasion, the water was for me.” She rose on her knees, and gently started to sponge Mingxu’s warm, dry flesh.

Stray droplets trickled down and Mingxu sighed pleasantly, as Rose tended her throat, her shoulders, her arms, her chest, then with slow deliberation, drew the rough cloth across Mingxu’s breasts. She met Mingxu’s eyes, then lowered her head and gently sucked the moisture from the tip of each breath.

Mingxu’s fingers sank into her hair, holding her there, like a babe giving suck, her fingers curling, scratching gently against Rose’s scalp. Rose dragged tongue and teeth across the erect tip of Mingxu’s breast, then kissed her way back to Mingxu’s lips.

“I will never have you clean if you demand so,” she whispered, drawing the wet cloth along Mingxu’s thighs.

“If I demand,” Mingxu whispered greedily, “will I receive?”

Rose smiled, sliding the cloth-laden hand up to Mingxu’s chest. “Lie back and see,” she murmured, dragging the cloth down from sternum to belly. She smiled the wider as Mingxu lay back on the bedding, propped on her elbows, as Rose continued to daub her with sweetly-scented water.

Every so often, the cloth would skim close to Mingxu’s most private places, and Mingxu’s lips would part, and her eyes would darken, and oh, her breath would catch, just so. It enticed her to be teased so, and Rose watched her, and she smiled.

“You are most cruel, my lady,” Mingxu murmured, her fingers curled into the linens beneath her.

“I am,” Rose murmured, then lowered her head and pressed her lips to the silken lips between Mingxu’s spread thighs. Mingxu uttered a small, pleased sound, her hips lifting eagerly and Rose closed her eyes, basking in the scent and taste of her lover, something that none other knew.

Mingxu’s flesh was warm and wet with desire, and she squirmed to Rose’s hand when Rose ventured to caress her. They were familiar enough now that Rose’s fingers slid easily within Mingxu’s warm, willing body, and Mingxu shivered with pleasure.

Rose lifted her head to watch her lover, then drew her fingers free, bringing to wrap both hands about it, warming the polished wood. Her tongue darted along her lips, the taste of Mingxu lingering there, then she placed the polished tip of the phallus against Mingxu’s hidden places.

“May I?” she whispered.

Mingxu’s dark eyes opened but a crack, and her lips curved up in a welcoming smile.

Rose’s teeth caught her lip as she gently pressed the phallus deep, her hand wrapped around the broader base. Mingxu arched her back with a low groan, her hips rising, and Rose could see how she clutched at the bedding.

“Shall I stop?” she asked, worried.

Mingxu looked at her with liquid heat in her dark eyes. “Lean over me, Rose,” she whispered. “I want to see you do this to me.”

Rose’s hands trembled, but she braced her free hand on Mingxu’s thigh, to help her kneel up, and leaned over her. Mingxu drew one hand from the bedding to brush Rose’s hair back from her cheek.

“Does it hurt?” Rose asked in a whisper.

“Deliciously,” Mingxu murmured. “Move it?”

Rose drew it back, and then thrust it deep once more, earning a smothered moan from Mingxu that raised gooseflesh the length of Rose’s body. The phallus was harder and broader than fingers, Rose thought, repeating the motion. If fingers could feel pleasant, then why would something thicker be any less pleasing?

She planted her hand beside Mingxu’s head on the bedding, holding herself up on her knees.

“Look at me,” she whispered, as she started to move the warmed wooden phallus in earnest, ever stroke earning a small, fragile sound from her lover. Mingxu’s eyes were narrow slits of darkness, and her lips were parted with small, shivering gasps.

Mingxu’s arm wrapped around Rose, drawing her down until their bodies pressed close to one another, every thrust of the phallus sending a shiver through Mingxu that made Rose tremble in turn. The sheer desire and hunger in Mingxu’s expression, the utter abandon in her body, trusting so wholly in Rose’s touches, made Rose feel quite weak at the knees.

She lowered her head, claiming Mingxu’s lips in a clumsy kiss, the strokes of her hand growing unsteady until Mingxu’s other hand covered hers, and together, the stroked the phallus over, and again, thumbs and fingers colliding as they touched flesh and wood, and Mingxu whimpered into Rose’s lips as her body trembled with satisfaction.

Rose gazed down at her, limp and flushed, their hands still tangled between their bodies. She gently drew her hand and the wooden morsel free. “Is my gift to your satisfaction?” she murmured, her eyes dancing.

Mingxu undulated her body beneath Rose’s. “Quite so,” she murmured. “And once I have caught my breath, I shall show you also.” She tugged on Rose’s arm. “But now, come. My hands wish to touch you alone.”

The phallus clattered away on the floor as Rose crawled up the bed, covering her lover’s body with her own. Shivering pleasantly though she was, Mingxu’s hands delved deftly between them, and Rose bit her lip to keep from crying out. Mingxu pushed her onto her back, kissing her and touching her slowly, teasingly.

“I missed you,” she whispered, as she sank two fingers swiftly within Rose’s body, her thumb seeking out the familiar throbbing bud of her sex. “I missed you so.”

Rose drew Mingxu’s lips down to hers. “And I you,” she whispered, her breath catching as Mingxu twisted her fingers that little deeper. “God in Heaven, I missed that too.”

Mingxu laughed in breathless delight as she claimed Rose's lips and body once more.


	5. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an interlude in the arc that leads to Miss Dormer and Mingxu being in England. This is not a happy, fluffy smutty chapter. This is backstory for Mingxu and Rose.
> 
> Please be warned of mention of violence and sexual abuse.

Canton was an interesting place to live for many reasons.

For all the tensions between the local people and those in the Thirteen Factories area, it was still interesting, as long as those of European and American origin remembered to remain within particular areas of the city.

The one exception was when New Year came around.

It was not at the same time as the West considered the turn of the calendar, but it made no never mind to the Chinese that they were flouting good, Christian tradition. They had their own calendar and they were quite intent on celebrating as and when they chose.

The celebrations were spectacular, and many of the Europeans housed within the Factories were invited to spend them with high-ranking Chinese officials. Entire households were invited, and the Chinese were more than eager to show how the new year should be welcomed, with fireworks, dancing dragons, and more food than any man could eat in a lifetime.

Captain Dormer and his whole family were cordially invited to visit the household of a local noble, and Rose had little choice but to accompany them. Fei Mingxu was dismissed for the duration of the visit, taking the opportunity to visit her family. 

She had not visited her family in some two years, maintaining that her first duty was to her mistress, but Rose knew the truth of the conflict within Mingxu’s family at her choice of position. All the same, she had no cause to remain, and for the first time in close upon two years, Rose slept utterly alone.

The festivities lasted for close upon a week.

Rose had to have her stays loosened more than once, and knew her mother was quite pleased that she had put some weight on about her face. Still, it was a relief to return to the residences at the Factories. After such richness and so little sleep, Rose was utterly exhausted.

She slept for half a day, and it was only the day after their return that Mingxu’s absence became more noticeable. The festivities were all done with by the eighth day, yet there was still no sign of Mingxu.

At first, Rose persuaded herself it was simply that she wished to spend time with her family, from whom she had been absent for years, but as days went on and there was no word from her and no sign that she would be returning, a worm of fear burrowed deep.

They had made a promise before they parted that they would go to one of the temples together and Mingxu would teach her of their deities. It had been a promise as ironclad as Mingxu’s promise to protect her.

Mingxu would never break her promise.

No.

Mingxu would never willingly break her promise.

If she had no choice…

Rose approached her father some two weeks after the New Year celebrations. He had no need to know why she was so particular about finding her maid. For all he knew, Mingxu was a stalwart bodyguard and trusted by his daughter. That was enough. If he suspected Rose’s true reason for seeking her maid, she knew she would be packed off on the first ship back to England and either wed or closed up in a convent for life.

Captain Dormer was a sensible man who took it upon himself to know his staff as well as he knew his crew. He frowned at the news that Mingxu had not returned from her family, even though it was scarce two day’s journey from Canton. 

A letter would be sent to the Governor of the area, he assured her.

It was little comfort to Rose, especially when the letter was sent and days went by with no response. She waited as patiently as she might, but whenever a courier or a messenger bird arrived at the house, she was at her father’s study in moments. Each time, he shook his head.

Something was wrong.

Mingxu was not one to abandon her post.

She would never leave behind her duties.

Or - Rose thought fearfully - the one she loved.

There had been whispers among the ever-changing staff. Mingxu was one of three who had been with their family for almost all of their time in Canton. The other two were men, and it was no secret that Mingxu was treated with favour by both the Captain and Rose herself.

It was simple appreciation.

Captain Dormer admired the bodyguard capable enough to save his daughter from abduction, and Rose…

Well, that was another matter.

For two years, they had been lovers. Two years in which Rose had discovered secrets about herself and her body that she had not imagined possible. Mingxu, for all her shyness, was just as eager to explore every avenue of possibilities as Rose, and there was a small chest in Rose’s chamber that was always, always securely locked.

Rose was not the kind to weep and lament, but the frustration of ignorance bore down on her like a great weight from above. Day after day, and no news. She spoke to the servants, asked if they had seen anything untoward, even ventured out to the other Factories, but Mingxu was not to be found by Western means.

It was close to a month after her departure when her father finally approached the very noble they had attended upon over New Year. Jeong Tai-Hua was courteous and listened, but Rose knew that the requests of an English Captain meant little to him when it came to finding one Chinese girl in thousands.

She did not know who was more surprised when she stepped forward, bowing low, in the correct manner, and addressed Jeong in his own language. 

It was not done for women to speak so in the Chinese courts, but she was sure her heritage would protect her, and she spoke softly, eloquently, of the guardianship provided by Fei Mingxu, and how greatly her service was missed, for it curtailed her own life terribly, and that of her family. 

Jeong’s expression remained unchanged and he listened in silence until her words ran dry.

Rose felt colour rise in her cheeks and bowed low, stepping back, respectfully, alongside her father. She could feel his eyes on her, but dared not look up at him.

“You have learned our tongue,” Jeong finally said in his own language.

Her father’s translator murmured a translation to him, for even though they had been in Canton so long, to learn Chinese bordered on a war crime for a British trader.

“Only that I might speak better with my maids, my Lord,” Rose said, lowering her eyes and bowing again. Humility. Humility was the key in all things. “Our household staff are of your people. It would be considered cruel to have them work without knowledge of what is asked of them.”

Jeong tapped a long-nailed finger on the arm of his carved chair. “And this maid you seek…”

“She is my bodyguard, as I have said, my Lord,” Rose said, raising her eyes, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. “She has served my family faithfully for many years. It is a cause of grave concern. We would know if she was ill for if it is so, we would offer our aid.”

Dark eyes were studying her face. “You show great loyalty for English woman,” he said.

“I am loyal to those who are loyal to me,” Rose said, her mouth dry. “Fei Mingxu has saved my life. If she was in danger, I would count my debt repaid if I could aid her.”

The man put his head to one side, watching her thoughtfully. Rose was holding her breath, trembling where she stood. She envied the Chinese for their ability to keep their expressions utterly impassive. Her own face felt hot and pink, and she knew she would be quite blotched, all clear indications of her mood. 

“You would only repay a debt?” he said, his finely plucked eyebrows arching up. There was some hidden depth to the question that made her features flush, and she wondered if she had spoken too freely and given herself away. 

His eyes were boring into her, intent and knowing, and if she lied or attempted to deceive him, then she knew she would have made her father an enemy by disrespecting their host.

“I would have my friend close to me,” she replied quietly. “Fei Mingxu is as a sister to me. I cannot live without my sister by my side.”

“A sister?” Jeong inquired mildly.

“Yes, my Lord.” Rose knew her face was flushed. She remembered all that Mingxu had taught her in the quiet of the night, of customs, of rituals, of the overblown pomposity of the nobles and the elite. She sank to her knees and performed a formal obeisance, lowering herself before his mercy. “My Lord, I beg of you, if you know one who might find here, my gratitude would be without measure.”

“Rose!” her father exclaimed, bending to haul her back to her feet. “Is that necessary?”

She looked up at him, eyes blazing. “Would you do any less if any of your men were taken?” she demanded.

Captain Dormer looked back at her. “Damn your eyes, you foolish girl,” he said with a sigh. “You know I wouldn’t.” He released her, waving her forward, and she looked back at Jeong, who was watching her with obvious interest.

She bowed again. “Forgive my father, my Lord,” she said. “He is accustomed to Western manners, I fear.”

“He is Englishman,” Jeong said dismissively. He rose from his chair. “I cannot make promises, for the provinces are not within my territories, but I shall make enquiries on your behalf, Dormer Rose.”

Rose bowed as low as her corset would permit. “Thank you, my Lord.”

With a slight gesture of his fingers, he dismissed them, and they emerged into the crisp spring air.

Rose took a shivering breath, as she and her father climbed into their small carriage. He waited until the vehicle was in motion before inquiring, “You have learned Chinese?”

“Mingxu thought it might be useful,” Rose said, looking down at her hands. “In case I was threatened or stolen away. She believed it would be beneficial for me to know what was being said around me.”

“Indeed,” he said wryly. “But what the devil was all that bobbing and bowing about?”

Rose laughed self-consciously. “Lord Jeong is a traditional man, father,” she said. “He has an appreciation of manners and etiquette. I have watched enough supplicants to know how best to approach him.” She smiled a little more surely. “He has offered his assistance. That is more than I could have hoped for.”

Her father patted her hand. “Do not get your hopes up, Rose,” he warned. “It is possible Miss Fei’s family have asked her to remain.”

Rose nodded. “I know,” she said quietly. “I would just like to have it as certainty rather than speculation.”

“I know, my dear,” he said.

She tried to do as he asked, but even so, every knock at the door, every ring of the bell, had her on edge. It was close to five days after their presentation to Lord Jeong that there were shouts and cries from the courtyard.

Rose set down the book she had been reading and rushed to the window to look out.

A covered cart was approaching, and was flanked by two of Jeong’s guards.

Her legs trembled beneath her, but she all but flew down the staircase and out into the courtyard to greet them. Her father was not present, dealing with some business in port, but his man was there, barking orders and demands.

He turned to Rose. “Miss Dormer,” he said urgently. “They say they have found our missing maid. They want you to confirm her identity, before they will discharge her into your custody.”

“Custody…?” Rose said, feeling a little faint.

There were too many voices and the translator was bustled forward, even though he was not needed. He spoke to the guards, and Rose heard the words “licentious” and “imprisonment” among them. She felt sick to her stomach and pushed through the gaggle of people surrounding the cart. The canvas cloth hid all that lay inside, and she hiked up her skirts to climb up the small footholds, pushing aside the canvas.

The stink almost made her vomit, and it took her eyes a moment to become accustomed to the gloom within.

There was a straw mat arranged on the floor, and the woman lying upon it was barely recognisable. Her face and body were a beaten mess, and there was blood crusted on any bare skin that Rose could see. Her head was shaved - badly - and her face so swollen that it was not immediately clear whether Rose was looking upon a man or a woman.

Rose breathed deeply, then climbed into the cart fully, crouching as close as she could without touching the poor, wounded body.

“Mingxu,” she whispered, in part praying they were wrong, that this was some other unfortunate, that Mingxu was elsewhere, and warm and whole. 

The swollen eyelids moved, barely opening a crack, and the bloody lips shifted into what might have been a smile. A blood-stained tear trickled from the corner of one eye. “Rose,” she breathed hoarsely.

Rose wanted to weep or scream or tear the canvas from the cart. Anything.

But she could not.

She had to remain calm and level-headed, for Mingxu needed her to be so. 

She went to the back of the cart, calling out orders in clear Chinese, earning some bewildered looks from the British retainers. Several of the maids rushed off at once, and Rose turned to her father’s man.

“Have a litter brought,” she said. “Mingxu has been returned, but she met an accident on the way. She will need to be carried indoors. Bring a sheet also. We shall need to cover her to preserve her modesty.”

It felt like an eternity before the shrouded litter was carried into the small room adjoining Rose’s, which had been long-assigned to Mingxu. She seldom used it, but it was there all the same, lest it was needed. A hot bath was waiting, though Rose did not know if Mingxu would be capable of rising, and a doctor arrived only moments later.

He would want to speak to her father, Rose knew, but that she could not allow. It was hardly proper to speak to the Captain’s daughter, but she was damned if she was going to allow Mingxu’s indignity to become common knowledge.

She closed the door behind her, locking it, and watched in silence as the doctor examined Mingxu’s wounds from head to toe. Mingxu barely made a sound as he used thick swabs of cloth to clean away the most superficial of the blood.

Rose’s stomach turned when she saw marks etched into Mingxu’s flesh. It was one thing to be cut with a knife, but another entirely for words, characters, to be sliced into the skin.

The doctor proceeded with the examination, and Rose wondered if she might be quite sick when the bruises on Mingxu’s thighs were revealed. There was blood between them as well, dark and dried, and she did not need to question the source.

When he finally rose, he approached Rose by the door.

“Excuse me, Miss Dormer.”

She met his eyes. “What you have seen does not leave this room,” she said with cool finality. “I will not have her shame being spread about the Factories.” He opened his mouth the speak at such blatant rudeness, but Rose held up a finger before him. “Think on this, Doctor. You will be well-paid for your service here. You do not wish to offend my father or his house, do you?”

“Your father should be informed,” he said brusquely.

“My father does not need to know that she was violated,” she said coldly. “I can inform him that she was beaten - badly - and cut upon, but if he knew she was made helpless in that manner, he would question her ability to protect me. She would be cast out to meet the same fate again.” She leaned closer to him. “I will not allow that. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

The Doctor eyed her. “She’s just one of the natives,” he said. “You can find another easily enough.”

It was astonishing how much her hand hurt after she struck him in the face.

Unfortunately, it meant that her father did find out about Mingxu’s fate. It also meant that Rose was sorely chastised for assaulting a Doctor, even if he had been an arrogant prig, and was forced to apologise. Her father was still generous enough, however, to let her listen to the diagnosis and know whether Mingxu would survive.

She would, he said. 

The beating, for all its severity, had been administered with very particular care, so that she would live long enough to suffer. She had been violated, which made Rose shudder in horror, and the words carved into her skin as an insult. Tattoos, the doctor said, would have been more traditional, but perhaps they lacked time or patience to tattoo her.

“I do not know what the words say,” the doctor added. “But I imagine they will be bound to the reason that she was incarcerated. The marks of the shackles indicate she was held for some weeks…”

Rose left the room and returned to Mingxu.

She should not have left her alone. 

She should have held her and helped her and taken care of her, as Mingxu had her.

Mingxu was sitting in the steaming bath. Bloody footprints showed where she had stumbled. The water was filmed with dirt from her skin and she was spasmodically rubbing at her wounded flesh with cut and bruised hands. She flinched when Rose opened the door and looked up warily.

“It is only me,” Rose whispered, closing the door and locking it behind her. She hurried over and knelt by the bath. “May I help?”

Mingxu’s head twitched in a nod. She was rocking gently, shivering despite the heat of the water, and Rose’s eyes brimmed with tears at the sight of her stalwart guardian so broken down. She took up a cloth and started gently washing the dried blood from Mingxu’s body.

As the dirt and blood cleared away, Rose could make out the words etched into her chest. Ugly words. Cruel words. Words meant to shame women. The man in the courtyard said she had been arrested for being licentious. The marks on her chest, her shaved head, the fact she had been locked up all attested to the same. 

One mark in particular caught her eye.

Devil-lover.

This had happened to her because they believed she was lying with her master.

“Oh, Mingxu,” Rose breathed. “Forgive me.”

Mingxu winced and whimpered softly, and her tears were spilling freely, as freely as Rose’s own. She looked up at Rose, raised a trembling hand to touch Rose’s cheek.

“You’re safe now,” Rose whispered, her hands shaking so much that she dropped the cloth in the water. She reached down to fish it out, but Mingxu caught her arm, embracing it tightly to her chest, pressing her cheek to Rose’s shoulder. She was shaking so hard, and Rose could feel the heat of Mingxu’s tears through her sleeve.

What could she do but gathered her lover in her arms and hold her?

“You’re safe now,” she whispered again. “You’re safe. No one will take you from me again, I swear.”


	6. The Betrothal Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately after chapter 5 of "In Need of a Wife".

Miss Dormer was deposited back at her parents' home without much ado.

The carriage ride from the Eaglesham estate was pleasant enough in the quiet of the night.

Bellamy could not help notice that Mingxu was quieter than usual, and her impassive gaze was not quite so impassive as it usually was. It was true that she had seen him in conclave with Rab, but they had merely been talking and had briefly touched hands. It was hardly a declaration of impropriety.

Miss Dormer, on the contrary, was animated and smiling.

It seemed that now she was not considered a spinster, and that she had a gift at the gaming tables, she was considered quite appropriate company for a Marquis, who would one day be a Duke. She spoke of defeating Bellamy's father at cards with such glee that Bellamy could not help laughing. 

It seemed he had found a wife who would more than match the wit and wickedness of the rest of his family. 

He bade her farewell at her door, and kissed her hand, earning an approving smile.

Of course, as soon as he was back in the carriage, all thoughts of the quite lovely lady dissolved into the memory of his lover, who was waiting for him in his father's house. Their townhouse was not the grandest in Scotland Yard, but it was large enough to house a dozen easily.

In one of the chambers, no doubt tucked away out of sight, Rab would be waiting.

Bellamy's smile curled his lips. It was ridiculous how sentimental he was for the great hairy brute, but Rab did not stray far from his own home, and to have come to London, a place he both feared and distrusted? It was enough to make Bellamy's heart swell with affection.

A light glowed in the window by the front door, as he descended from the carriage, and he looked up at the house. It seemed the rest of his family were already home, and if not abed, then preparing to be so, for all of the shutters were closed, and there was scarce any light peeping between them.

Henry was waiting in the lobby, though it was late enough that he was drowsing. He leapt to his feet when Bellamy opened the door, apologising in hushed tones and proferring a sealed letter. "Your father bade me give you this."

Bellamy frowned, cracking the seal, and opened the letter. 

By the light of the small lamp, he skimmed through the contents, and knew himself to be blushing. The servants, it seemed, had been given the following morning off, so there was no need to fear disturbance. As long as everything was back in its correct place by noon, his father wrote, he could do as he pleased.

"Your chamber has been prepared, and a supper laid for your return, Master Bay," Henry added.

Bellamy nodded distractedly. Something to eat would be good. He had spent so much of the evening fretting about Rab's presence and discomfort, and trying to prove himself a decent companion to Miss Dormer that he had hardly remembered to eat a thing. He could fill a platter than slip up to the room to find Rab.

"Grandmother and her nephew came yesterday," he said. "I trust they were suitably accommodated?"

"Yes, Master Bay," Henry said solemnly. "Her Ladyship is in the blue chamber, and Mr McFadzean occupies the top bedroom."

The smallest formal bedchamber in the house. No real surprise, knowing Rab's preference for intimate spaces.

"I shall do my utmost not to disturb them, then," he said virtuously, shedding his outer coat and striding for the stairs. His own chamber had previously been adjacent to his father's, but the arrival of Mama Belle meant Bellamy chose to relocate quite promptly to the next level. It was much safer for all concerned, for there were some matters one does not need to hear of, no matter how thick the walls and doors.

He could see the flicker of the fire from beneath his door, and was already shedding his jacket when he opened the door. He stopped short, startled, at the sight of Rab standing by the fire, hands braced on the mantle. He had shed his coat and was only in his breeches, shirt and waistcoat.

Bellamy stepped into the room and closed to door quietly behind him, unable to tear his eyes from Rab.

The man usually wore coarse, loose clothing that was more practical than aesthetically pleasing.

Breeches became him well.

Bellamy swallowed hard.

Lud, indeed. They became him very well. Almost as well as nothing at all. 

Rab glanced over his shoulder. “She’s away, then?” he said, lowering his hands from the mantle and turning about.

“She is safely delivered home,” Bellamy replied, his eyes drifting down the front of Rab’s body and back. He was still wearing the cravat too, and it just begged to be loosened, drawn free. He moved towards Rab. “Father has made sure we will not be disturbed.”

“Aye,” Rab said. “He mentioned.” He spread his arms loose by his sides, one side of his mouth turning up. “Are you going to unwrap me, then?”

Bellamy lifted his hand to the rumpled cravat. “You tempt,” he said.

Rab brought his hand up under Bellamy’s elbow. “You’re no exactly an innocent yourself,” he said, his thumb moving in a slow circle through the silk. 

Bellamy curled his fingers, slowly tugging at Rab’s cravat. It came loose readily enough, and he watched Rab’s face as he drew it undone, inch by inch, until it trailed about his neck like a scarf. “You spoke filth in front of the world at the ball,” he murmured. “You know how I respond to it.”

This time, Rab’s grin was wolfish. “I do at that,” he agreed. “If it weren’t for the audience, I would have had your arse bared in seconds.”

Bellamy silenced him with a slow, lazy kiss, his other hand undoing the fine row of polished buttons down the front of his waistcoat. The fires had not been stifled. They were being gently banked, and he felt no need for urgency, not with the whole night before them.

Rab’s broad hands splayed over his hips, one sliding down to squeezed his arse, and Bellamy smiled into the kiss, his tongue tracing along Rab’s lower lip. 

“Are you trying to hurry me along?” he said, drawing back and spreading the front of Rab’s waistcoat, pushing it off his shoulders. It landed on the hearth rug behind him. 

“I’ve been without you for months,” Rab said, pulling him closer.

“Aye,” Bellamy said. “And I you.” His fingers made light work of the buttons of Rab’s breeches and delved within, dragging the shirt out of the way until flesh met flesh and he wrapped his hand around Rab’s already stiffening cock. Rab growled, smothering him with a kiss, one of his hands wrapping around Bellamy’s wrist, moving his hand demandingly, his other hand cupping the back of Bellamy’s head, lost in the tangle of his loosened hair.

Bellamy groaned into Rab’s mouth, his tongue sliding slick and teasing against Rab’s, as he rubbed his fingertips against his lover’s balls, and let the hot, heavy length of Rab’s cock rub wantonly against his palm. 

His own breeches were becoming increasingly tight, and the thought of Rab’s suggestions, all the lewd whispers from the ball, it was tempting to go to his knees, arse in the air, and be fucked until he screamed his throat raw.

It was almost enough to distract him from his intent.

He dragged his mouth from Rab’s pressing his lips to Rab’s bare throat and bit down hard enough to mark. It was seldom something he did, but it delighted Rab, in the right moment, and this was one of those. Rab’s curse split the air and he seemed to swell in Bellamy’s hand.

Rab was too much diverted by Bellamy’s occupied hand to notice the other.

Perhaps he felt the brush of silk on his skin, perhaps not.

Bellamy sucked on his throat, worrying at the flesh with his teeth, and his left hand deftly drew his cravat around his right. He would not be a gentleman if he could not tie a knot with his eyes closed, and he pulled the knot firm and stepped back all in the same moment.

Rab swayed where he stood, startled, panting, untouched.

“What was that for, you cruel bugger?” he said breathlessly. 

Bellamy smiled unsteadily. “This time, you’ll have to be patient.”

Rab glanced down, then narrowed his eyes as the neat ring of fabric knotted tight around his prick. “You think I’ll leave it there?” he said, taking a step towards Bellamy. He reached for the silk kerchief, but Bellamy held up a hand.

“You take that off, and I won’t give you what you want this evening,” he said. He took a step towards Rab, brushing his fingers along the throbbing length of Rab’s cock. “You know what I do rarely, Rab,” he whispered into Rab’s lips. “Do you want me to do that tonight? On my knees for my lordship.”

Rab caught his upper arms, claiming a brief, shaking kiss. “You didnae need to warm me and leave me banked,” he protested.

“After what you did at the ball?” Bellamy laughed huskily, stroking his thumb in a slow circle around the dewy head. He leaned closer to whisper against Rab’s lips. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, you conceited bastard.”

“Bay…” Rab said again.

Bellamy pressed the front of his breeches. “You’re not the only one suffering,” he said, sliding his other hand up Rab’s side beneath his loosed shirt. “But I haven’t eaten, and I wouldn’t want to faint from exhaustion while you rut me into the floor.”

Rab’s grin returned. “That’s a likelihood,” he agreed, though he closed Bellamy’s hand around his cock with his own, drawing once, twice more, enough to make his eyes roll. “By God, I missed your hand, Bay.”

Bellamy’s lips twitched. “What about my mouth?”

Rab gazed at him heatedly. “You have to ask? When I take myself in hand, it’s that damned mouth of yours I’m thinking on.”

By God, he was a tempting devil.

Reluctantly, Bellamy drew back and retreated to the table by the window, dropping into one of the seats. He pushed out the other with his foot, one of his hands already unfastening his breeches and dragging his shirt loose. His cock throbbed demandingly, and it only grew tauter as Rab sank into the empty seat, knees spread, his cock red, swollen and bound with Bellamy’s own kerchief.

Rab draped his arms over the arms of the chair and spread his legs like a wanton slut.

“Well,” he said, smirking, “eat then.”

Bellamy snatched up the pitcher of wine and poured himself a glass, then forced his attention from Rab, who put his own hand to his cock, watching Bellamy like a hawk as he stroked himself over and over. 

“You’re a bastard,” Bellamy said succinctly, around a mouthful of cold chicken.

“You’re the one who started this wee game,” Rab murmured. His voice was lower, thicker, and his breathing was becoming shallower with each long stroke of his hand. “I could have my hand on you, Bay. Stroke you like this.” He arched his head back against the back of the chair, his other hand gripping the arm. “You know you want me to.”

Bellamy shoved aside the plate, picking up the wine again.

He had barely eaten enough to slake a sparrow, but given a choice of temporary starvation or being driven half-mad by his lover, temporary starvation would win out. He rose on legs that were quivering, and approached Rab’s chair, his wineglass in his hand. Taking a mouthful of the sweet red wine, he jerked Rab’s head back and kissed him, the wine spilling between their lips, over Rab’s chin, down his chest.

“Don’t try me, Rab,” he warned, licking ruby drops from Rab’s beard. “Don’t ever try me.”

Rab hissed as tongue, teeth and lips caught every spatter of wine on his throat, then down, over his collarbone, down his chest. Bellamy’s teeth nibbled at Rab’s nipples, and Rab cursed hoarsely again, grabbing at Bellamy’s hair. “Please,” he groaned. “You nancy bugger!”

Bellamy’s teeth scraped over the curve of Rab’s ribcage, making his hips jerk. “Please what, Rab?” he breathed a cool breath upon the damp skin. “Tell me what you want.”

Rab twisted his hand in Bellamy’s hair, making him look up, and the plea, the longing, the hunger there made Bellamy’s heart stutter in his chest. “Please let me know I’m still yours,” he whispered hoarsely, “not some wee girl’s.”

Bellamy stared at him, then leaned up and kissed his mouth, then his chest above his heart, then down, lower and lower still. Rab was shivering with need, and when Bellamy wrapped his hand about the other man’s cock, Rab arched with a hiss. It was hard, throbbing and hot and Bellamy looked up at Rab, waited until Rab looked back at him.

“I’m yours, you stupid arse,” he said, then lowered his mouth and wrapped it around Rab’s cock. Rab writhed and jerked, clutching at the arms of the chair, and was all but sobbing until Bellamy managed to loose the kerchief. At once, Rab’s hands, both hands, were in his hair, as Rab’s body convulsed and filled Bellamy’s mouth with his hot seed.

Bellamy barely had a moment to catch his breath, when he was pulled up to Rab’s level and kissed hard, demandingly, hungrily. He had never known Rab so afraid that he was losing him before, he had never known the marriage might distress his lover as much as it did him.

He gathered Rab closer, both of them clinging to one another, his mouth still sticky and salty with Rab’s release, and drew Rab’s head to his shoulder with shaking hands.

“No girl is having me,” he whispered, his hand tremblng on Rab’s nape. “No man either.”

Rab’s hands were clenched tight against his back. “I’m being daft,” he murmured against Bellamy’s throat. “Just daft. Dinnae worry on it.”

“Of course I’ll worry, you prick,” Bellamy whispered, drawing Rab’s head up to look him in the eye. “Did you think I would leave your bed for a wet fanny and a pair of tits? Have I ever looked twice at a woman?” He held Rab’s face between his hands. “You’re the one I’ve chosen, remember.”

Rab leaned closer to claim a kiss. “This doesn’t mean I’m a soft nancy,” he whispered, though the tremor in his voice and the brightness in his eyes said otherwise. He smiled unsteadily. “And you’ve wasted a fine hard-on. I could have bashed nails into the floor with that thing.”

Bellamy couldn’t help laugh. “I’d rather you didn’t try that,” he said. “Drag your chair closer. I’d like to eat some more without you waving your cock in my face.”

Rab complied, bringing his chair beside Bellamy’s, their calves tangling together. Bellamy dragged the plate back, picking at the food. Rab leaned on the arm of his own chair, his hand reaching down to Bellamy’s lap, pushing aside the shirt and breeches to stroke Bellamy’s prick.

Bellamy looked at him with an amused smile. “You don’t need to,” he said, offering him a morsel of chicken.

“I ken,” Rab said, snatching the chicken from Bellamy’s fingers with his teeth. “But I want to.”

It was gentle. That was the part that remained with Bellamy long after he was spent. They shared food as Rab’s hand slowly, tenderly brought him hard again and between kisses and bites of the food, he finally shivered through his own release. His breeches were sticky, and his shirt damp, but Rab just dragged the chair around and kissed him.

“I’m tired,” Rab confessed quietly.

Bellamy nodded, brushing crumbs from Rab’s beard with his thumb. “We have time,” he said. “We don’t need to do more tonight.” He leaned closer and kissed Rab again. “To bed?”

Rab turned his head and kissed the ball of Bellamy’s thumb. “Aye,” he whispered. “I’d have you beside me.”

Bellamy rose on still-trembling limbs. “Come, then,” he said, offering Rab his hands. “You’ll have to keep me warm.”


	7. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place immediately after the fade to black in chapter 10 of In Need of a Wife.

The wall was hard at his back, and Rab was hard at his front, and Bellamy’s lips were swollen with kisses. They had slid half down the wall, Rab made knock-kneed and clumsy with drink and shaken affection.

“They’ll seek you,” Rab finally said quietly, breaking from their lazy, sating kisses.

“Not tonight,” Bellamy whispered, his fingers curled into Rab’s hair. “Rose has offered a diversion that we might be reacquainted.”

For a moment, he wondered if it was folly to bring his wife to his lover’s ears, but Rab only looked thoughtful for a moment and kissed him again, tugging at his shirt. 

“I’ll be sure to thank her,” he declared solemnly, his eyes near crossed with the focus of undoing Bellamy’s cravat. He tugged it free, then leaned down and kissed reverently at Bellamy’s throat. He lifted his head, looking at Bellamy with a strange, hopeful expression in his eyes. “What d’ye want, Bay?”

Bellamy touched his face, Rab’s beard rasping against his fingers. “You, Rab, as you’d have me.”

There was such a beauty in Rab’s hesitation. “Have me?” he asked quietly. “Would you?”

Bellamy’s heart drummed. “You’d wish it?”

Rab’s tongue darted along his lower lip and he nodded. “Aye,” he whispered. “I would. Will you have me?”

Bellamy dragged him into another kiss, dazed. Always, in all the love-making and bed play, Rab seemed happy enough taking the lead and laying Bellamy upon his back or front or upon a bed and having him, and Bellamy - for his part - took great pleasure in it.

To imagine that Rab would ask to be put upon his knees, taken thus…

“I did not know you desired it so,” Bellamy whispered against Rab’s lips. 

Rab laughed self-consciously. “Och, it’s no a matter,” he said, nuzzling the tip of Bellamy’s nose. “Ye just make such a fuss, I’d like to know if it’s better that way or the other.” He tugged on Bellamy’s lower lip with his teeth. “Ye can’t be a nancy bugger if you dinnae bugger someone at least once, eh?”

Bellamy could not help but laughing, kissing him again. “Then we must try, what. I cannot have you feeling deficient.”

Rab nodded solemnly. “Putting your prick up my arse’ll help.”

Bellamy kissed him hard. “Before the fire, then, you hairy great baggage,” he said. “It’s demmed chilly, and if we are to do this, I would see what I am about.”

Rab smiled - almost shyly. “Ye’d look upon me?”

“Always,” Bellamy breathed. “Lud, if I could but have you stand in my office when I am at work, with naught but your skin…”

“Ye’d get nothing done, you randy little bastard.”

Bellamy laughed, pushing at Rab’s shoulders. “To the fire,” he said. “I will fetch the oil from beneath your bed.”

“The small brown bottle, mind!” Rab said, shambling to his feet. “The one with the blue label. I’d no have the poison up my end, no matter how I’d have you.”

“I know it well enough,” Bellamy said with a small, fond smile, watching Rab tug off his waistcoat, then drag his shirt over his head. It took all Bellamy’s will to look away. He shed his own coat and went to the small case of bottles that Rab kept under his bed for his trades: oils and poisons, herbs and linaments, dozens of items for all occasions.

By the time he turned his attention back to the fire, Rab was still struggling with the ties of his breeches, though his boots had been tossed to one side.

“Here,” Bellamy said, approaching him. “My hands are likely steadier.”

Rab moved his hands from his waist, letting Bellamy loosen the ties of his breeches, though Rab caught his elbows, his rough fingers tracing circles through the fabric of Bellamy’s shirt, dragging down his forearms. Bellamy looked up from the laces of Rab’s breeches, the look in the other man’s eyes quite stealing his breath.

“I’d burn for you,” Rab whispered. “They could put me to the torch and I would burn for love of you.”

Bellamy caught him in a savage kiss, his body pressing to Rab’s as he pushed Rab’s breeches down, the weight of the heavy cloth dragging them down in a heap at their feet. Rab pulled at Bellamy’s waistcoat and shirt, shoving them aside with equal eagerness, until all Bellamy was left in were his fine breeches, and he wrapped a hand about Rab’s wrist, stilling his hand.

“Kneel, Rab,” he whispered. “I’d have you.”

Rab’s face was flushed and his eyes shining. “Aye.” He claimed another quick kiss, then kicked aside the bundles of their clothing and went to his knees - upright - upon the thick fur rug before the low fire. The glowing embers cast him in hues of gold and red, rippling upon his skin and causing Bellamy’s breath to catch in his chest.

Bellamy knelt behind him, laying his hands light upon Rab’s shoulders, and tracing the taut muscle there. Rab was seldom inclined to let Bellamy see so much of him - indeed to be behind him at all - and only now could Bellamy truly see why.

Once, Rab had been flogged, and the marks - even more than two decades on - were cut clean in his skin, stripe lashing across stripe, the unsullied flesh visible here and there between them. It was a most dreadful pattern.

“Will I hurt you if I touch you?” Bellamy asked quietly, splaying his hands.

Rab was shivering. It took such trust to allow someone to be so close behind him, yet out of his sight. “No anymore,” he breathed. His spine arched slightly as Bellamy dragged his hands downwards, and his breath hitched.

“Has any…” Bellamy trailed off, unsure if he wanted to ask, even if he wanted to know.

“Only my ma,” Rab breathed, his hands kneading at his thighs. “She tended me when they were fresh.” He gave a small, sharp cry when Bellamy leaned closer, pressing his lips to the top of Rab’s back. “You dinnae need to touch, Bay.”

Bellamy closed his teeth sharply on Rab’s nape. “I want to,” he whispered heatedly against Rab’s throat. “Would you have me stop?”

Rab, big, strong, sure-handed Rab, trembled. “No,” he whispered. “No. I wouldnae.”

Bellamy stroked his hands soothingly down Rab’s ribs. “Lean forward,” he whispered. “Rest on your arms.” Rab hesitated but a moment, and Bellamy kissed his shoulder. “If you wish me to stop, just say.”

Rab nodded, leaning forwards, baring his back to the light of the fire, baring himself, bowed and vulnerable, and trembling like a leaf. He rested his forearms upon the rug, his brow on his clenched fists, and a shiver ran through him as Bellamy splayed both hands on his scarred back, his fingers tracing and stroking across the abused flesh.

Bellamy wondered if he should speak, offer some comfort that the scars were not repellent, but it felt like words were no longer apt. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed lips and teeth to the marks, letting his hands slide over Rab’s sides, caressing him, exploring his chest, his belly, lower.

He was unsurprised to feel Rab’s cock hot and heavy against his hand, and he closed his hand about it, stroking it once, twice, feeling Rab’s twitch demandingly. 

Bellamy smiled against Rab’s back, kissing his way lower. Rab’s body was rigid as iron, but for the occasional shiver. The sound that slipped from his throat when Bellamy’s tongue traced the crease of his arse was closer to that of an animal than a man.

The small brown bottle was close at hand. Bellamy eased the cork out with his thumb, one hand still resting upon Rab’s prick, and his tongue still laving in long, lazy strokes, drawing greedy tremors from his lover.

His kisses moved slowly upwards as he brought the open bottle over Rab’s arse and trickled the oil, unable to quash a chuckle as Rab shuddered when the cold liquid touched his flesh.

“Fuck, Bay!”

“You don’t warm it for me, you bastard,” Bellamy laughed against his shoulder. “Why should I treat you nicely, you nancy bugger?”

To his some part relief, a chuckle rumbled in Rab’s chest. “Whine, whine, whine,” he said hoarsely. “Is that all you rich poofs do?”

Rather than answer aloud, Bellamy slicked the oil down the crease of Rab’s arse with two fingers. Rab unfolded one hand, clasping at the rug, and Bellamy nuzzled his shoulder as he eased a finger into Rab’s body. Rab gasped explosively, as first, then second knuckle pressed deep, his fingers tugging at the rug.

“Even I didn’t make this much of a fuss,” Bellamy murmured teasingly, his back all but plastered across Rab’s. He moved his finger slowly deeper, then back, his other hand still snug about Rab’s cock, neither squeezing nor stroking.

“Ha!” Rab breathed out. “I didnae make a show of it…” He sounded unsteady, shaking, but before Bellamy could ask, he pushed back against Bellamy’s hand. “I didnae want yer finger. Get your prick out, ye randy wee sod. I can feel it against my back.”

Bellamy bit him fondly on the shoulder. “Has anyone told you that you can be a pushy bugger?”

Rab grunted, stretching out his other arm, his back arching downwards, the muscles of his shoulders flexing and moving beneath the flesh. It served the dual purpose of making him look even more demmed alluring, and lifting his tailbone hard against Bellamy’s cock.

“You fucking bastard,” Bellamy groaned, freeing both hands from Rab’s body to loose his breeches, because by God, if he did not, he was sure to soon be spent. He heard his lover chuckle, though it still had a nervous tenor to it.

It was his first time to be treated thus, and Bellamy could scarce recall the sensation, so long ago as it was. All the same, he used the dregs of the bottle in his hand, stroking himself quick and hard. He needed little enough aid, and both oil-slick hands ran over Rab’s hips.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his thumbs moving in circles upon the bare, warm flesh.

Rab simply lifted his hips, offering his arse in open invitation, his fingers twisting and kneading at the furs like a fretful cat.

Bellamy hesitated but a moment, then shifted his weight upon his knees and angled his prick at Rab’s arse. The oil helped somewhat, but Rab still gave a short, stifled cry, his whole body aquiver. 

Bellamy leaned forward over him, biting at Rab’s nape gently, unable to breathe let along speak, at the sensation of hot tightness about his cock. Lud, how could the man think to move with such pressure upon him?

“Fuck, Bay,” Rab groaned, pushing back against him. “If it feels like this with your wee prick, how the hell do you keep walking after I fuck you?”

Bellamy had sense enough left to be affronted, giving Rab a chastising smack on the arse. “My prick,” he panted out, grabbing Rab’s hips and forcing himself to move, making Rab gasp out small, pathetic, wanting sounds, “isn’t wee, you cocky bastard. Not all of us are hung like fucking donkeys.”

Rab laughed and Bellamy groaned anew, burying his face in Rab’s hair as the shivers of that laugh tensed parts of Rab’s body in ways he had not imagined. 

“Jesus Christ…” he moaned hoarsely. 

Rab tilted his head, nudging his crown against Bellamy’s cheekbone. Bellamy sought out his cheek, his jaw, his throat, kissing, licking, nuzzling, trembling as he pushed and pulled his cock against the hot grip of Rab’s body. One of his hands - he couldn’t even say which - reached down to grasp Rab’s cock, though his fingers were trembling.

Rab’s prick throbbed against his palm, startling him with its readiness, and he pushed harder, stroked deeper, even as he teased Rab’s cock with his hand. It was hard to think, to think on his lover, when his whole world was closing up on his prick, the pressure mounting and his breath stuttering and ragged against Rab’s sweat-sheened shoulder.

It would be cruel, he knew, if he were spent and Rab were not. 

He remembered there was a depth Rab might strike within him, and wondered, thought, maybe, maybe if he could hit deep and hold fast, and God above, Rab was pressing back, keening and shivering and Bellamy strokde harder, shifting, deeper, the angle, the stroke, his hand squeezing and his teeth to Rab’s throat and he bit, bit and thrust and squeezed and Rab thrashed like a landed salmon, jerking and crying out and hot seed spilled upon his fingers and Rab’s body tight, tight already, tighter still, and ot and close and Bellamy with juddering groans spent himself within his lover.

Were he Rab, he could have moved them both. But he was not.

All he could do for a moment was sprawl, limp and boneless, upon Rab’s back, panting into his throat.

With a grunt, Rab tipped them both onto their sides upon the floor, still linked so very intimately. He reached down blindly, catching Bellamy’s wrist and dragging Bellamy’s damped hand to rest over his heart. Bellamy could feel it racing against his palm. He had no doubt his own was too.

Before them, the fire was banked to a comfortable glow, neither too hot, nor too low.

“Will I be shitting cum for a week?” Rab finally broke the companionable silence, his voice sleepy and sated.

Bellamy nuzzled his shoulder. “You’ve been buggering me for a decade and now, you think to ask?”

“Mm. Wasn’t my arse before.”

Bellamy leaned over him as much as he could and kissed his lover. “No,” he said. 

Rab licked at Bellamy’s lips sloppily, the drink clearly reaching his brain. “Mm. Would ye do it again?”

Bellamy wrinkled his nose. “Would you want me to?”

Rab tried to turn onto his back, and with some negotiation, and a lot of cursing, they managed to disentangle themselves. Rab sprawled on his back, wriggling on the furs like a lazy cat, and looked up at Bellamy. 

“I liked it when you touched my back and licked my arse,” he informed him gravely. “But I think you can keep your prick out.”

“Thank God,” Bellamy said, sprawling down beside him. “I didn’t have any idea what to do.”

Rab chuckled, drawing Bellamy’s head to his shoulder. “Aye,” he said with a yawn. “I could tell.”

Bellamy lifted his head reproachfully. “Just how drunk are you?” he said. “Because there is some honesty, I would rather not hear.”

Rab pulled his head down and kissed him wetly. “I love you,” he said. “Even if ye cannae find your way around my arsehole with a lantern.”

Bellamy snorted, but he was smiling. “Maybe that was the trouble. No lantern.”

Rab frowned at him, looking mussed and confused and sweaty and drowsy. “Fuck it,” he said. “Pull a blanket over. We can sleep here.”

It felt strangely comforting to have Rab instruct him so, as they always had been, brushing aside all the nonsense about Bellamy being happiest elsewhere. He half-crawled across the floor to drag the blankets back to Rab, and he was hauled down against his lover’s chest, cradled there with the blankets about them.

Things, Bellamy decided, his ear pressing over Rab’s heart, were on the mend.


	8. One Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set over a year after Bay and Rab, and Mingxu and Rose, have moved into the Dower House in the Westfell estate and are all living happily ever after.

For the life of him, Bellamy could not understand how he had been persuaded to venture north to hunt. He had no taste for the matter, though he excelled in it, and to prove a point, he felled a twelve-pointer when his prowess was put to question.

It was demmed tiresome, dragged hither and yon and lying on his belly in the muck, Rab at his side, but unable to do a thing with the man because of the other members of the hunting party. Rab did not aid matters, by guiding his arm and his gun with the lightest of touches, and breathing orders close to his ear. He had to order the hairy brute away in order to shoot as well as he knew he could.

He took down the stag, and it was done with, though he was descended upon by his more northern cousins and they insisted he had to be blooded. He protested in indignation, insisting it was not his first kill, and yet, he was dragged to the carcass and a dozen merry hands soaked him with the blood of the beast.

He knew Rab was stifling his laughter, and scowled as they departed from the party, to ride back to the cottage that had been appointed to them. It belonged to one of the families that lived and worked on the land near the loch. The family had been discreetly displaced to give the Marquis of Cathkin and his wife and their miniature entourage privacy.

They were known to be a doting couple, so their desire to have their own small abode while they visited was not called into question, for which Bellamy was very grateful. The fewer people who deigned to serve them, the better.

He slid from the horse, as they neared the small house. The sun was only beginning to set, though it was late in the evening, close upon eight. The long days made good for hunting, but it also meant that nights were shorter.

“I can still hear you laughing,” he said haughtily.

Rab swung down from his own horse, grinning. “Ye should see the state of ye,” he said.

Bellamy risked a look down. Bloody handprints stained his shirt, and he knew his face was thick with the stuff.

“I fear I must wash ere my lady wife sees me,” he said dryly, tugging his shirt away from his body. It clung unpleasantly, the bloodstains crisp about the edges.

“The horses, first,” Rab said, “then we can gang to the loch. It should be warm enough, still.”

By the time they were done with the horses, Bellamy was glad he had taken his lover’s guidance, for he fairly stank of horse and sweat and blood. He leaned against the doorway, drawing in lungful of fresh air, unsurprised when broad arms snaked about his waist.

“Even like this, you villain?”

Rab nuzzled at his throat. “Every which way, Bay,” he purred, one hand easily negotiating the ties of Bellamy’s hunting breeches. Bellamy shuddered pleasantly with a groan, but wrapped his hand about Rab’s wrist.

“I’ll no be had, crusted in the blood of a beast,” he murmured. “You can help me clean myself, but no blood.”

Rab pressed against his back. “Yer a cruel master,” he murmured thickly. “Ye look half-wild and dangerous as I’ve never seen ye.”

Bellamy twisted in his arms, baring his teeth. “I can be dangerous, Rab,” he whispered low. “But I’ll no be had with blood upon me.” His voice was little more than a growl. “Do ye understand me?”

The kiss was ravishing, and near swept away his will. He grabbed Rab’s hair and dragged his head back, meeting his lover’s eyes.

“Aye,” Rab whispered. “No blood. I’ll scrub ye down.” His eyes slid downwards. “Every inch o’ ye.” His hand slid between flesh and cloth and squeezed rudely. “Shall we disrobe here, my wee Lord. Or shall we go to the water?”

It was but fifty paces to the water, and there were trees and bushes about the way.

“Here,” Bellamy breathed in challenge. “How fast dare you run?”

They were laughing like schoolboys as they raced from the small stable house towards the lake, only for Rab to stop dead in the shelter of some bushes, close to the water’s edge. He held up his hand for silence, a puzzled look on his face.

“What is it?” Bellamy asked, puzzled.

There were no other houses for miles about.

Rab pushed aside some branches, and Bellamy peeped through.

It seemed that he and his lover were not the only ones to appreciate the thought of a late evening dip in the loch. A glance at Rab made him realise that his burly lover was blushing at the sight of the Marchioness and her maid playfully splashing about together in the water.

The blush only deepened when Rose waded back to the shore in naught but her chemise, the fabric clinging and showing much more of her than either of them had ever seen before. 

Mingxu followed, and Bellamy looked away abruptly, meeting Rab’s eyes with a self-conscious little smile, for Mingxu had emerged from the water with naught but a strip of cloth about her waist.

“Lud,” Bellamy whispered. “There is a sight I did not anticipate.”

“They are fine figures o’ womanhood,” Rab said with a low growl underlying his voice.

“Aye,” Bellamy whispered. “Aye, indeed.” He peered out towards the house and saw the door close. “We should not hurry, else they will know we saw them.”

Rab nodded in agreement, breathing heavily as if he had run a long distance.

Bellamy eyed him. “They have turned your eye so?”

“I may be yours, Bay,” his lover said dryly, “but I’m no blind. If a fine lady walks by me in little but her skin, especially one such as your wife, I cannae help but take a wee look.” He hissed, when Bellamy wrapped his hand around Rab’s cock.

“And this?” Bellamy murmured.

Rab looked down sheepishly. “Did ye no see her?”

Bellamy pulled him closer and kissed him firmly. “If you’re hard for my wife, I feel I should tell her,” he said impishly.

He was abrupt on his back in the dirt, his lover atop him. “Ye’ll do no such thing,” Rab whispered, though his eyes rolled up as Bellamy squeezed his cock, two fingers sliding down to knead his balls. 

“You know my wife, Rab,” Bellamy whispered heatedly, his hand moving with slow deliberation. “You’ve seen her. Have you thought on her? My wee Rose? Have you thought of her, when you took yourself in hand.”

Rab’s fingers were curling into the dirt. “If I have?” he panted. “What then?”

“Then naught,” Bellamy whispered, “she has no care if you or I think on her. Would you have her, Rab, if she’d have ye? My wife?”

Rab’s breath was coming thick and fast. “That’s no what I think on,” he growled between clenched teeth. “No just of her.” His eyes were dark as night. “When I think on her, ye’re there wi’ us.”

That made Bellamy start. “I?”

Rab leaned down, kissing him clumsily, hungrily. “Ye think I’d neglect ye,” he whispered. “For tits and a wet fanny?”

Bellamy laughed unsteadily, his own words from so many months before flung back at him. He reluctantly relinquished his grip on Rab’s cock. “We should wash ourselves,” he said, pushing at Rab’s shoulder. “The night is turning chilly.”

They reached the water, and as tempting as it was to play, the air was turning cool. Rain was sweeping in. Rab helped Bellamy scrub the blood from his skin, his hand only skimming briefly about Bellamy’s prick, before they hurried out of the water. The heavens opened as they bolted towards the house. 

It was a small mercy that in the lobby, there were blankets, which they hastily wrapped about themselves for some modicum of modesty. They had intended to sleep above the stables, but it was cold and they were both shivering.

“Are you coming in?” Rose’s voice drifted through from the room that served as the living area in the pitiably small house.

Bellamy and Rab’s eyes met, and Rab flushed deeply.

“We’re not entirely respectable,” Bellamy called back.

The door between the rooms was ajar, and opened a moment later. Rose was standing there, clad in one of her Chinese robes, her hair loose and wavy around her shoulders. Bellamy heard Rab’s breath catch.

“I hardly asked for respectable,” she said with a small smile, drawing the door wide, the warm glow of the fire dancing behind her. “Come. You must be frozen. We have wine.”

Bellamy glanced at Rab, who - flushing - shrugged helplessly.

They followed Bellamy’s wife back into the room. The chairs had been pushed back to the wall, and blankets from the bed were scattered about the floor, with pillows. Mingxu was reclining on her side, and Rose settled back down beside her, taking the pipe that her lover was smoking and drawing upon it.

The smoke was sweet and fragrant, certainly not tobacco. 

Both women were looking quite lazy and comfortable, and the empty wine bottle that stood nearby gave a good indication as to why they may be so.

“You have had a pleasant day?” Bellamy said cautiously, sitting down while trying his utmost to retain his modesty, drawing his blanket tight about him.

“Mm.” Rose poured them each a cup of wine. Her hands were warm as their fingers brushed against one another. “It has been a most leisurely afternoon.” She glanced between them, adding, “though I am surprised it took you quite so long to come back from the lake. Why did you not join us?”

Rab choked on his wine, and Bellamy was only grateful he had not also been drinking. 

“Join you?” Rab sputtered, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

Rose and Mingxu both dissolved into giggles, and Rose leaned back against Mingxu’s legs, her eyes dancing. “Look how they blush,” she whispered to Mingxu. “As if they had not been peeping from the bushes like schoolboys!”

“You saw us?” Bellamy asked weakly.

Rose’s hand stroked along Mingxu’s hip. The Chinese woman was wearing a similar robe, though hers was more loosely tied. “My lady is a bodyguard,” she said. “She would hardly be very good if she did not hear two grown men lumbering about in the bushes.”

Rab downed the cup of wine with a disgruntled look. “Ye could have said.”

Rose met his eyes, smiling. “You could have refrained from hiding,” she said. “Why so shy, Master Rab?”

Bellamy could all but feel the tension rising from Rab, who was glowering into his empty cup. “Pray do not tease so, my Lady,” he murmured, reaching out to touch Rab’s knee through the blanket. 

Rose’s expression softened. “Are we not all married here, Bay?” she murmured. “What have we to be ashamed of? We know each other’s most private and secret affairs, yet we flush and become shy when we know each other?”

“You are ladies,” Rab said, staring down at his cup. “It’s no polite to gawp.”

“Not even if the lady doesn’t mind?” Rose said.

Rab’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

Rose met his eyes and smiled slightly, shrugging. “You do not imagine you are the only one in this arrangement who has eyes, Rab?” she said. 

“Lud…” Bellamy groaned, leaning back against his lover. “You?”

Rose shook her head, glancing down with a smile. Mingxu had rolled onto her belly, stretching like a cat, and looked up at Bellamy with a small, oddly shy smile. She ducked her head, curling once more about Rose.

Bellamy’s mouth felt dry. “Oh,” he said weakly.

“It is only looking,” Mingxu murmured. “There is no harm in it.”

“Wait,” Rab said. “Ye look upon Bay?”

Mingxu nibbled on her lower lip and nodded. “He has been very good to me.”

It was not inaccurate, Bellamy had to admit. 

As much as he enjoyed the company of his wife with her wit and mischief, often he and Mingxu would talk over philosophy and the differences between their cultures, a relief to her, for she often feared mistepping in a world that her own companion did not know well. He helped her understand their society, taught her French, where Miss Dormer’s faltered, and defended her against the indignation of the servants in his father’s house.

She had smiled at him more often, of late, and he had not even realised until now.

“Oh,” he said again, his voice tiny. 

Rab looked at him. “Ye should be pleased, you soft bastard,” he said. 

Bellamy pulled a face at him. “I am,” he said. “I am just… puzzled as to why.”

Mingxu sat up, brushing her hair behind one ear, her cheeks flushed. Rose murmured something to her in Chinese, and Mingxu shook her head emphatically. Rose started to speak again, but her lover caught her arm.

“I did not mean to make things uncomfortable,” Mingxu said, without looking up. “Such a matter should not have been brought to light.”

“Why?” Rab asked. “Bay’s just a wee bit panicked, because he’s never even kissed a lass before, let alone had one like him.”

“Rab!” Bellamy exclaimed, smacking his lover’s arm.

Rab looked at him. “It’s no exactly a secret,” he said with a snort. “Ye barely even kissed yer wife when ye married her.”

“That’s quite true,” Rose agreed. She looked at Mingxu with a smile. “Perhaps you should take him in hand, qin ai de.” Mingxu flushed deeply, all but hiding her face in Rose’s shoulder. “Oh come, now. We are all friends here. What harm might it do?”

“I-I-I…” Bellamy’s cheeks were burning, yet Rab was not objecting, and that was a source of utter befuddlement. “Why?”

Rab’s arm was around his waist. “Because the wee lass loves ye, ye stupid bugger,” he murmured. “Ye always were blind.”

“B-but she loves Rose,” Bellamy whispered.

“And I love both of you also,” Rose murmured, looking at him solemnly. “We are all of us one, Bay. Perhaps we are not lovers. Perhaps we never shall be, but as you and I are man and wife, so are Rab and Mingxu to both of us. We cannot all of us be apart. It is impossible to live thus, when we are bound as closely as we are.”

Bellamy looked at Rab, who had once been so wary and fearful and suspicious of the women before them. His lover’s hand rubbed his back, warm through the blanket, and Rab leaned down to kiss his shoulder.

The wine, Bellamy decided, was stronger than it might otherwise have been.

“Is this true?” he asked quietly, looking at Mingxu.

Rather than replying in words, Mingxu rose and approached him, kneeling in front of him where he sat. Slender fingertips brushed his cheek. They were trembling so softly, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Mingxu searched his face, then leaned closer and kissed him as if she feared breaking him.

It was not as it was with Rab: it was gentle, barely a breath, and she was trembling and he could recall a thousand reasons why she would be afraid, and for every one of those reasons, to drive the demons from her, he gently, gently took her in his arms and kissed her truly.

No woman deserved to live with the fear of past torment and abuse, and if he could grant her some smaller happier memories to think on, he was happy to do so.

He could taste tears on their lips, and Mingxu’s hands were tangled in his hair. He did love her, he knew, as a friend and a companion, and he could not let her nightmares trouble her anymore than he could let Rab’s torment him. Bellamy stroked his hands down her back, not entirely surprised when Rose’s hand brushed his.

Sometimes, nightmares could not be held at bay by only one person.

Mingxu drew back, staring at him, her dark eyes wet and bright. When she embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder and sobbing softly, it was with all the emotion that she contained and protected so fiercely. He met Rose’s eyes over Mingxu’s dark head, as his wife added her arms to the protective mantle, and Rab enclosed them all in his embrace.

One of Bellamy’s hands was in Mingxu’s hair, stroking gently, the other closed about Rab’s arm. He had no notion of what one was meant to do when one’s wife’s lover confessed her love, save knowing that he wanted naught but to comfort her.

“I would not disgrace you,” he whispered. “You deserve better than that.”

She was silent, but for soft, shivering sobs, and finally lifted her head to look him in the eyes, her expression as grave as ever. “I am already disgraced,” she whispered. “They ruined me.”

“Hush, love,” Rose murmured, pressing her lips to Mingxu’s shoulder through her robe. “What they did to you does not reduce you.” Her arms were about Mingxu’s middle, holding her fast. “If aught, it is they who are reduced by their actions.”

Bellamy could see the play of a dozen emotions upon the Chinese woman’s features, pain chief amongst them. But a year before, he could not have imagined knowing her so well as to know her moods, but now, he did, and he brought his hand down to brush her cheek tenderly, a woman brave enough to venture about the world for her love. 

He felt so small and insignificant, his own love but a drop in a bucket by comparison, and that she loved him, that someone with so great a heart as she could love him, as Rab did…

He rested his brow to hers, his thumb brushing upon her cheek. 

“I understand neither of you,” he confessed in a whisper. “What have I ever done to deserve love from people such as you?”

Rab’s lips brushed his ear. “Ye have seen us,” he said quietly. “Many don’t, Bay. Many only see a servant, someone to step upon, and push aside.” His arm slid about Bellamy’s waist. “Ye have done all that ye could to grant us happiness.”

Bellamy looked to Mingxu, her dark eyes fixed on his face. There was true affection there, such that it stole his breath, and Rab kissed his neck softly. 

“Rose and ye have taken us, ruined as we are,” Rab whispered. 

“You’re not ruined,” Bellamy breathed. “Neither of you.”

“An argument I have made time and again,” Rose murmured. One of her hands brushed his upon Rab’s arm, and he looked to her over Mingxu’s shoulder. “But it seems our words are considered for naught.”

Bellamy looked to Mingxu again, searching her face. “What would you?” he asked uncertainly.

Colour bloomed on her cheek, more explicit than anything she might have said, and she dared another kiss, still as soft, as cautious, and, he felt Rose’s hand clasp his. He drew back, his tongue brushing his lips.

“Rab…”

Rab’s mouth was pressing to his shoulder, and his lover was silent for a long while. “Ye’ll need a hand, won’t ye?” he finally murmured. His smile was palpable through Bellamy’s shirt. “After all, yer a wee nancy.”

Mingxu flushed furiously. “If you have no desire…”

“Och, wheesht, lass,” Rab said, cutting over anything Bellamy might have tried to say. He propped his chin on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Do ye love him so much that ye would have him?”

Mingxu’s hands came to her face, but she looked at Bellamy who knew he was blushing quite scarlet too. She nodded, lowering her eyes.

“And ye dinnae mind?” Rab continued, looking to Rose.

Rose mirrored his pose, her chin on her lover’s shoulder. “I would that she had memories to surplant those that trouble her nightmares,” she said simply. Bellamy could see Mingxu trembling at her words. “If one night in the embrace of the man she loves would help, I would let her lie with him a hundred thousand times.”

Bellamy felt Rab draw a breath, sigh. “And you, Bay? Will ye give the lady one night? To drive the nightmares by?”

“Would it truly help?” Bellamy asked quietly. Mingxu’s blush was warming her features. “I would have you happy, Mingxu. You are of our family, and I would have you happy.”

She raised her eyes to his. “It might,” she said quietly. “I have many… unpleasant memories of men and cruelty. I cannot be sure, but it might.” Her eyes were bright with emotion. “That you have been kind is enough, Bay. It is enough.”

He startled himself by kissing her then. Not with fire and intensity as he did with Rab, but with gentleness, the gentleness he knew that she needed and had lacked. He did not know quite what he was doing, but she deserved every kindness, and if one night from him would help her, as Rose had said, he could grant that.

Mingxu made a soft, dazed sound, leaning into him. Both of her arms slipped about him, over the blanket, and he shivered as Rose’s hand threaded through his hair, combing through it, approving and reassuring all in one.

His attention was wholly upon Mingxu, and the small, soft sounds she was making. She shivered and he drew back. Her lips were swollen, her eyes closed, and she was breathing rapidly. He could see why she had trembled one of Rose’s hands had loosed her robe, the fabric parting, revealing bare flesh.

Bellamy leaned back into Rab for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to gather himself. It was entirely true that he had never kissed a woman. Nor touched one. He had never had any intention to truly do so, and how he would do what was necessary, he had no idea.

“I’m here,” Rab murmured in Gaelic. “Don’t worry, Bay.” His lips were close to Bellamy’s ear and he nipped Bellamy’s earlobe. “If need be, I’ll tell ye every way I’d fuck ye, to keep ye up for the lass.” His hand slipped beneath the blanket, and caught Bellamy by the cock. “If ye doubt yerself, I’ll take ye in hand.”

Bellamy tilted his head, his brow rubbing to Rab’s. “You truly do not mind.”

Rab’s teeth dragged upon his throat, and he sucked, a sharp, delicious sting to the flesh that made Bellamy hiss. “This is one night,” he murmured. “One night to help our wee Mingxu. That disnae make ye any less mine or any more hers.” His other hand slid over Bellamy’s shoulder, pushing his head around enough for Rab to kiss him, hard and greedy. “And if ye manage this, ye wee nonce, I’ll fuck ye so hard ye’ll see Jesus.”

The blood seemed to throb in every inch of Bellamy’s body, and he broke from Rab’s heated kisses, panting. Rab’s lips curled in a smile and he nodded, his hand moving beneath the blanket, slowly, lazily. It would not do to terrify the girl by leaping on her, after all. 

Bellamy forced his attention back to Mingxu. Her head had fallen back against Rose’s shoulder, and Rose was toying with one of her lover’s breasts. Bellamy hesitated, then followed her example, tracing Mingxu’s other breast lightly. It was softer than he had anticipated, and his fingertips squeezed gently, cautiously.

Mingxu lifted her head enough to look at him, and there was heat in her eyes, soft, lambent heat. She covered his hand with her own, pressing his hand closer, and he felt her nipple peak against his palm. He pressed his palm in a gentle circle, earning a shiver, and she leaned up and kissed him again.

Bellamy’s hand slipped to her side, brushing over her bare ribs. His hand was cool, still, from the loch, and her skin was warm, gooseflesh rising wherever he touched, letting gasps spill against his lips. She was so small, so slight, yet like Rab, he could feel the muscles move beneath her skin, like a cat about to spring.

She rose on her knees suddenly, bringing herself up to his level, and all at once, she was all but pressed to him, her arms slipping beneath the blanket about him. Manners made him freeze, startled, at the sensation of a near-naked woman against his bare chest, but Rab’s hand squeezed his cock, and he drew a sharp breath between his teeth before she kissed him again.

“Oh,” he whispered against her lips, his hands on her sides. He could feel ridges upon her skin, scarce noticeable, but as one in new territory, he could not help linger upon them and Mingxu, drew back from his lips, staring at him, as if afraid. “Scars?”

She looked fearful, and Rose was at once at her back, her hands on Mingxu’s shoulders.

Rab peered over Bellamy’s shoulder. “Och, they’re only wee things,” he said, with a gentleness that belied the teasing in his tone. “When ye’ve had half your back flayed off, ye can consider yerself scarred.”

Bellamy smiled crookedly. “He’s right,” he said. “The daft bastard’s a patchwork.” He spread his hands, smoothing them up and down her sides gently, and could feel her eyes on his face as he lowered his head and kissed her cheek, then her jaw, then her throat.

Rab didn’t really need to murmur guidance in Gaelic. After all, Bellamy’s parents were far too eager in their affections, which was an education - unwanted - unto itself and he pushed himself back enough that he could lean down and kiss Mingxu’s breasts, each in turn. Two hands were at once in his hair, and Mingxu gave a small, urgent cry as he sucked upon her breast.

That cry made his blood throb hotly and he raised his eyes. She was looking down at him, her lips parted, and she was panting softly. He felt one of Rose’s hands brush over his and downwards, and as his stroked his tongue over Mingxu’s nipple, Rose’s hand delved between her thighs. Mingxu whimpered softly, her fingers tugging at his hair. Only one of the hands there was hers, he noticed. Rose, too, was holding him. 

Bellamy drew himself up to kiss her again, and this time, he kissed her truly, deeply, invitingly, and felt her squirm against him, sandwiching her lover’s hand between them, along with Rab’s.

“How would you have me?” Bellamy whispered, the words catching on her lips. “I will not force you to your back.”

Her hands were trembling, and she shook her head, looking lost.

“Here,” Rab murmured, his free hand brushing her hip, guiding her up. “Ye’re strong, lass, and he’s no a man to go atop anyone, e’en a wee pony.”

“Hey!” Bellamy protested.

The tension that was tight about them shattered, as Mingxu hid a giggle in his throat, then lifted her face to look at him. “You are sure?”

Bellamy’s lips twitched helplessly. “If I say no now, I’m quite sure I’ll not get a seeing to for at least a month,” he said. He dropped a kiss on her lips. “And I have always wondered what it was like to…” They were both blushing again.

“You’d think they had never fucked anyone,” Rose observed dryly.

Rab’s chuckle was deeper than usual, and utterly filthy. “Daft, eh?” He released Bellamy to drag the blanket from his body. “Sit, Bay. Like that time we tried in the summer.”

Bellamy’s cheeks heated even more rapidly, recalling the occasion, but he moved from half on his knees to sit cross-legged, with a cushion beneath him to protect his backside from the hardness of the floor. Rab was at his back again soon enough, and Bellamy’s cock was sheathed in his lover’s hand.

Mingxu was looking downwards to it, and she looked only a little pale.

“Oh, dinnae worry, Mingxu,” Rab said. “He disnae know what to do with it at the best of times. He willnae harm ye.”

“Not at all,” Bellamy breathed hard, leaning back against Rab. 

Rose spread a hand on Mingxu’s belly, drawn up from between her thighs. She left a shimmering trail upon Mingxu’s pale skin. “It’s hardly even as big as the jade one,” she whispered, just loud enough to be heard. She nuzzled Mingxu’s ear. “And hardly any texture. I fear you will be disappointed.”

“Lud!” Bellamy groaned, as Rab moved his hand just a little. “I do not know whether to be flattered or offended. Should I paste beads upon myself?”

“Oh, hush,” Rose said, leaning down and swatting Rab’s hand away. “Let us look.”

“Rose!” Bellamy exclaimed, flushing, though any other words were caught in his throat when his wife reached down and wrapped her hand about him. Smaller than Rab’s, and softer to, but her grip was sure, and he reached back blindly with a hoarse yelp, grabbing at Rab’s thigh.

Rose met his eyes, and her smile was the wicked one he was coming to adore. “I won’t have you disappointing my love, Bay,” she said. 

It was little helped by the press of Rab’s body to his back, and Rab’s lips at his throat. “If she bedded ye,” he whispered in Gaelic, his voice thick with hunger. His hands were bruising on Bellamy’s hips. “Mingxu might be the weapon, but yer lady is the one who takes the shot.” He pressed his own cock against the base of Bellamy’s back. “What I’d give her, ye’re going to get.” His breath was hot and heavy against Bellamy’s throat and Rose’s hand tightened. Bellamy keened. “Fucking hell, Bay, I’ll have ye once she’s spent.”

“Please…” Bellamy whined helplessly, caught between them both. “Mingxu, for the love of God, they’ll kill me!”

Mingxu’s own laughter was trembling, but he felt her nudge Rose’s hand aside. He felt the more cautious touch and forced his eyes open. She was biting her lip and she touched, gentle and curious, and it was not enough. By God, it could not be enough, but Rab, beloved Rab, lifted one hand and must have sucked upon his fingers, for all at once, he felt the cushion shift and the thrust of blunt fingertips at his arse and groaned as Rab sank two fingers in his arse to the knuckle, curling them and making him shudder.

“Will you…?” Bellamy asked breathlessly. “Will you have it, Mingxu?”

She leaned closer to kiss him again, and moved, kneeling over him. She was trembling but straddled his lap. Rab’s other hand moved, sliding down to stroke his cock, once, twice, enough to make him throb in his lover’s hand.

Mingxu’s hands came to rest on Bellamy’s shoulders, and he looked up at her. He was breathing harder than he had any right to, but she was also, and he felt her nails bite into his shoulder as she lowered herself, Rose guiding her, just as Rab was guiding him.

It was not as it felt when he had taken Rab. No. It was different. Warm, damp, tight in a different way entirely. Not wholly unpleasant, but unfamiliar, and Mingxu was holding fast to him, sinking down, down, down, until he was buried within her. 

They were still for a moment, just staring at one another, his hands at her waist, her hands at his shoulders, and a small, trembling but bright smile played across her lips. 

Rose murmured something in Chinese, her hands stroking over Mingxu’s shoulders, and Mingxu nodded, a shiver running through her. It echoed about Bellamy, drawing a pleasant flicker of heat within him. 

“No pain?” he asked of Mingxu, his breath catching.

“No pain,” she agreed in a whisper, and kissed him. It was delightful, kissing her, just a gentle play of lips upon lips, and small and breathless sighs flavouring them. He did not know if it was one of them who began to move, or if other hands guided them, but all at once, the kisses were becoming clumsier, and his breath was coming more frenetically, his hips twitching to her, her body rising and falling above him. Rab’s mouth was hot upon his neck, one hand squeezing at his hip, and the other…

Fingers curled and Bellamy groaned, throwing his head back against Rab’s shoulder. 

He knew he should touch Mingxu, find some manner of means to please her, but his mind was scattering in a thousand directions, and his hands could do little but slide blindly against her body, over her sides, along her ribs, meeting and overlapping with Rose’s hands, where they were playing upon her breasts or sliding downward. He felt the back of her fingers brush his belly, then press between the point where he and Mingxu were joined. 

Whatever it was she was doing, it was enough to make Mingxu’s head fall forward, her hands sliding to Bellamy’s arms, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Her face pressing to his shoulder, her mouth latching upon him as she moved. He felt each small, gasping whimper, open-mouthed against his skin, echoed by his own.

“Good,” Rose all but purred. It sounded like sin, that whisper. “Fuck her, Bay. Let her see what it can like.”

Had he been struggling, there was something in her voice that made Bellamy’s cock twitch. 

“Christ, Rose!” he groaned, dragging his hand up to tangle in Mingxu’s hair. “Do you mean to kill us both?”

Rose’s laughter was thick and wanton. “I want my love happy,” she whispered, and that made Mingxu’s body tense about him in ways that made Bellamy’s eyes roll. Mingxu only made matters worse, her nails cutting into his arm, and her teeth into his neck, as she moved, quicker, and quicker still, against him and against Rose’s hands. She was making short, urgent sounds, until she froze, rigid, and shuddered violently, as if taking a fit, and her whole body seemed to close about him, hot and tight, and biting and squeezing.

Bellamy’s breath was little more than ragged panting, the heat about him, Rab’s touch, Mingxu’s lips, Rose’s voice, all far too much to take in. He pressed his eyes closed, pulling Mingxu hard against him, his hips jerking clumsily.

He should have withdrawn before he spilled his seed, but it came upon him too fast, and all he could do was hold her close as Rab fucked him with his fingers, and Rose whispered how beautiful they were together, and he cried out - he didn’t know what, a name, a curse, something - at the ceiling.

He fell back against Rab, his breath rasping, the only sound in the small room over the crackle of the fire, and all was still and silent.

The fingers at his left hip slowly loosed their hold, and Rab’s hand drifted from Bellamy to Mingxu, running the length of her back, in a gentle, soothing caress. A soft sigh escaped her lips, cool against Bellamy’s shoulder.

“Are you well?” Bellamy asked hoarsely. 

“Mm.” It seemed to take great effort for her to lift her head, and when she did, her eyes were dark and soft with gratitude. Her lips touched his, lightly, barely a brush of contact. “Thank you,” she whispered, dragging one hand up from his arm to touch her fingertips to his chin.

He could not help but smile, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers playfully. “Lud, madam,” he murmured. “I am glad to have assisted.”

That earned one of her rare, true smiles, her eyes bright. She put her arms about him, giving him a brief, affectionate squeeze, then - with great effort - she raised herself, and both of them drew breaths as their bodies slipped apart.

Mingxu fell back at once into Rose’s arms, and the nudge of Rab’s cock and the twitch of his fingers drawing free reminded Bellamy that while two of them had been well enough tended, there were yet two who had but watched.

Bellamy twisted himself about in his lover’s hold, looking up at Rab, only for his lips to be devoured in a greedy kiss. What shame there might have been left was brushed aside, and Bellamy blindly found his lover’s cock with one hand. He knew him well, and was unsurprised that Rab was all but ready to come apart in his hand.

He cared not a jot for his wife or Mingxu’s continued presence, only for Rab. He kissed him with a voracity that he had restrained for Mingxu, and his grip on Rab’s cock was merciless, stroking hard and fast, as Rab pulled him closer, demandingly.

Rose’s voice broke through his captivation, as Rab tore his lips away from Bellamy’s kiss to curse.

Rose was speaking in Chinese, but there could be no mistaking the tone or pitch or even the theme, for it was urgent and greedy as Rab’s kisses, and Bellamy saw the way Rab’s eyes shone. His lips twitched, knowing he could not deny him whatever sight he was beholding. He put his mouth to Rab’s throat, and tightened his stroking grasp, and let him watch, his mouth, tongue, hands and the press of his body serving as ample support for Rab’s distraction.

It took but a moment, less than that even, until Rab grabbed at his wrist and he spilled himself, sticky and hot, upon Bellamy’s hand. His eyes were still on the women, but he dragged his eyes from them and looked at Bellamy.

“Fucking hell, Bay,” he whispered hoarsely.

Bellamy gazed at him, then lifted his sticking hand and licked his fingers clean, and that - it seemed - was enough to drive all thought of two women from Rab’s mind. He watched Bellamy’s hand like a hawk, and the instant his fingers were clean, Bellamy’s mouth was savaged in a kiss.

“I fucking love you, you little bastard,” Rab growled against his bruised lips.

Bellamy dragged him down to sprawl amid the blankets and pillows, oblivious to whatever Rose and Mingxu might be doing. “And I you,” he murmured, dragging his fingers along Rab’s chin. He was kissed again, firmly, and he sighed, content. “But I think I prefer being buggered to being a man, what.”

“One night only, then?” Mingxu’s voice was sleepy and sated.

Bellamy turned his head, as Rab continued to nuzzle at his throat. “Mm. You also?”

Rose was spilled on her back on the blankets, her robe spread open, flushed and smiling, and Mingxu was draped over her, propped up on one arm. The Chinese woman stretched out her hand to Bellamy and their fingers met midway between them.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

He smiled sleepily, as Rab dragged a blanket up over both of them, covering him with limbs and blankets. “You are welcome, m’dear,” he murmured around a yawn. “Quite welcome.”


End file.
